Remember The Name
by Feagalad
Summary: "Was it really that bad for you?" "Dude! It was HELL! I'm pretty sure the travel brochures don't contain any mention of pedicures and rainbows. Poker games and too much beer, sure, but not the other. Besides, strip poker isn't half so fun whenever you have to strip off a body part every time you lose..." Protective!Dean BigBrother!Sam Snarky!Adam
1. I'm Your Only Brother

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>This is the prequel to _The Diary of Adam Winchester, _but it should make perfect sense without reading that fic first. It is #4 in the 'On Earth' verse and takes place right after _'Slumber Party' _in Season 9.

**Disclaimer: **Okay. So I own this idea (kind of) and I own the way that I present it, but I can lay claim to NOTHING that would bring in monetary assets or financial gain like the characters and setting and franchise.

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><p><em>Dark. Cold. Pain. Endless. The stench of sulphur. Fire beneath, ice up above, torture all around. Laughter that hurts instead of bringing joy. Hellhounds. Flames. Burning. Freezing. Screaming. Dying. Eternal damnation. Hell.<em>

_Loneliness. Boredom. Isolation. The screams of a lost companion ringing in the silence. Soft-spoken assurances that there was indeed no hope. Gentle hands that turned into pain-bringers. Hours curled in a corner, shaking, fearful, listening, hiding, waiting for it all to begin again. Eternal damnation. Hell._

_Angels. Angels turned into demons. Angels turned into demons flaying body and soul to shreds day after day, hour after hour. Violating mind and body with knife and hands and thoughts. Hurting until names were forgotten and vocal chords screamed raw and bloody. Flames that somehow burnt cold and hot all at once licking away at the body, consuming inch by painful inch until the angels became bored with the screams and slit the throat. The reek of burning flesh and tainted Grace leeching into the nostrils and choking the lungs. The screams of the damned outside the cage hurting the ears and making the soul ache. The knowledge that nobody would hear one extra scream added to the cacophony of torture. Eternal damnation. Hell._

_Weakness. Hopelessness. Corruption. Agony. Merciless. Torment. Alone. Forgotten. Eternal damnation. Hell._

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><p>"So, Sammy, what's the word?"<p>

"It's an elongated version of my name usually reserved for a sick or bleeding me, but often utilised just to be annoying."

Dean poked his head around the door-jamb of the bathroom, toothpaste-slathered toothbrush in one hand, "Don't pull a Cas and be a smart-mouthed little bitch, Sam." He said, glaring at his unrepentant sibling who just grinned.

"So you admit I'm smart?"

Dean shrugged, going back to brush his teeth. "Well you had to get SOMETHING, seeing as how I got the good looks of the family." He could practically hear the eye-roll Sam was undoubtedly giving him at the moment and now it was Dean's turn to grin. "You going out to get breakfast?"

"Dude. Spit in the sink before you try to talk."

Okay. So maybe that last sentence hadn't come out as clearly as Dean had thought it had (it _was _rather difficult to speak around a mouthful of bristles and foam, after all). He finished scrubbing his pearly whites, rinsed, spit, and wiped the residue from his chin. "I said, Sammy, are you going out to get breakfast?" And if he wasn't, Dean would. Silly sasquatch needed to eat and sleep regularly if Zeke was going to be able to heal him the rest of the way up from the Trials.

Feeling a twinge of guilt for the continued deception of letting an angel into Sam's head, Dean came out of the bathroom and looked his brother critically up and down. Though still a little bit pale and drawn, Sam was definitely doing worlds better. He was no longer coughing fit to spit out out a lung and his colour was definitely better. Dean also had noticed a favourable change in Sam's appetite and sleeping patterns in that he seemed slightly less driven to forego lunch or a decent bedtime in favour of research. Which was good. A man his size couldn't afford to be skipping meals and losing weight and generally running himself into the ground like he had during those final terrible months of the Trials when Dean had gone crazy trying to keep his big little brother vertical and as far away from delirium as they could manage.

"...Dean? Are you okay?"

Dean blinked, coming out of memories and mental thanks to hidden angels and found Sam a few inches from his nose, peering worridly at him. "Huh? What?"

"_Dean_, I asked you what you want for food. I think this motel actually has a continental breakfast."

Well that was a treat! Usually the motels the Winchesters gave their patronage to were nasty dives that offered pay-by-the-hour rooms (with complimentary stains and potential insects) or they were small, independent, often family-run inns that were like a Bed 'n Breakfast...minus the breakfast. "Get me some sausage gravy if they have any."

"Deeean!" Sometimes Dean could have sworn that Sam was still five years old. "That stuff is disgusting! It literally looks like barf."

"And your rabbit food looks like the stuff scraped from under a lawn mower, so I guess we can't always look at aesthetically pleasing grub."

"Wow, Dean. 'Aesthetically'? Did you read the dictionary to get that one?"

"Shut up and go get me my 'puke'."

Sam wrinkled his nose. 'Gross, dude."

"Anything for my favourite brother!"

"I'm your only brother."

"True..."

* * *

><p>"...are you sure? Really?" Dean looked up from his magazine as Sam shuffled back in through the door, balancing two loaded plates on one arm and clutching his phone in the other. "Okay, Garth. Right. We'll look into it. Thanks."<p>

"Garth?"

Sam precariously sat the plates down on the desk and nodded. "Yeah. Seems he's not MIA any more. Was chewing me out about the damage Crowley did to his houseboat."

"Huh. Well you can tell the asshat that while he was off playing cops and robbers, or whatever he was doing, our prophet was stolen out from his safe house boat by the damn King of Hell!"

"Sure, Dean." Sam said sarcastically, tongue between his teeth as he tried to push a straw into a carton of milk...except it was bending in all the wrong places. "I'll just tell him that and interrupt him in this werewolf hunt he's in the middle of. Guy feels bad enough about it already, but he got held up...and before you ask, no, it wasn't another chick and a hot tub. He and a couple other hunters ran into a bunker of the last few Leviathan still left after the explosion of Dick - "

"Which sounds _so _wrong."

"...yeah. But that's what Garth has been up to."

Dean sat for a while, nursing his orange juice and watching Sam scarf down his bagel and fruit salad like there was no tomorrow. It was nice and peaceful to sit like this and share a meal as brothers without sickness or secrets (except for Zeke, and that would be over soon) or another damn Apocalypse hanging over them. How long had it been since they had had a breather? Well Dean had gotten the year with Lisa and Ben...but, to be honest, half of it was quite blurry as he spent his days in a drunken state of numbness, at last feeling understanding for the way his father had clung to Jim, Jack, and Jose after the death of Mary. Sometimes the only way to deal with the pain was to drink it away.

Sam had gotten a break with that Amelia chick while Dean was fighting his way through Purgatory (a hiatus that had almost broken the two of them apart and nearly gotten them killed because they weren't on the same page) but Dean found that he could no longer begrudge Sam that time. Indeed he felt like an ass-monkey for ever holding it over Sam's head. He couldn't be sure (Sam was a regular clam sometimes) but, based on some things Sam had let slip in a fever-induced truth session, Sammy had had his reasons to leave hunting behind. Dean was quite sure that Sam had believed him to be dead and he had to say he was proud of the kid for not going in search of the nearest crossroads. Been there, done that, they never wanted to go back again.

Dean was also willing to bet just about everything he had (except for Baby and the vintage Voluptuous Asian Lovelies) that Sam's mental health hadn't been the best. Hell...he was just coming out of a tour of the deepest Pit where he had been bunk buddies with Satan himself. Dean KNEW that Sam's head hadn't been screwed on right since the wall broke in his head, so that could only have gotten worse whenever he was left alone. Certainly made moments like this where they sat together as brothers and as partners all the sweeter, knowing that they could have lost it all.

So Dean almost hated to ask, but he had to know. He waited until Sam had almost cleaned his plate (and was starting to eye up _Dean's _grapes, thank you very much!) before he spoke up. "Say, Sammy. What did Garth Fitzgerald Whatever want...aside from finally checking in?"

There was a gulp as Sam swallowed the mass of cream cheese and jelly in his mouth before he said, "Just was dropping us a hint about a possible job. There's been demonic omens showing up on the radar recently."

"Oh great."

"Yeah. I know. But I really think we should check these ones out because, from what Garth described, they're the type of omens we haven't seen since Azazel and Lilith were killed. Omens we haven't seen since Castiel and the other angels first came to earth. Back before, y'know, the whole Apocalypse?"

"Okay. I'm listening." Dean took a bite of toast. "Still don't see why this is our job. We just finished a vamp hunt and before that we ganked The Wicked Witch of the West."

Sam rolled his eyes. "The omens are showing up in Stull Cemetery, Dean." He said.

Dean dropped his toast. "Pack your crap, Sammy." He said, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Finish eating that and break down camp while I go and check us out. The last thing we need is one of those sons of bitches trying to figure out how we did what we did there." He paused, halfway to the door, and looked at his brother in concern. "You going to be okay, going back there?"

"Yeah, Dean. I think I can manage. After all...the job needs to be done."


	2. Stull Cemetery

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><p>"Damn friggan' skeeve dives with their damn friggan' fumigation."<p>

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean's rather repetitive rant. "Let me guess - no vacancy?"

"What kind of friggan town is this anyway?" Dean was still complaining as he got into the car, ignoring Sam's question. "They're fumigating this crap hole, Sammy. _Fumigating_! Who the hell does that anyway?"

"Weren't you complaining just last week that more places needed to?"

There was a shudder from the elder brother as he abruptly changed his tune. "Ugh. Let's go. I'm getting the clap just looking at this place." He squirted a generous dollop from the rarely-used bottle of hand sanitiser Mrs. Tran had insisted on equipping the Impala with if her Kevin was going to be driving around in it and rubbed it vigorously all over his hands. "I think the little jerk-off behind the counter actually _was _jerking off whenever I came in."

He was exaggerating. He had to be.

Sam rolled his eyes. "So you don't want to check in here?"

"HELL no!" Dean finished his hand sanitisation and threw the car into gear. "I'm just pissed that we're going to have to merge back on the interstate in all this traffic...and all because some jerkwad in a skeevy dive couldn't put out a 'closed for friggan fumigation' sign."

Sam rolled his eyes again as Dean pulled out of the pothole-riddled parking lot with a squeal of tires that sounded distinctly like a _"Hmmph!" _from Miss Piggy. And Dean called _him _a temperamental little bitch?!

To be fair, they had been on the road all day and even Dean, self-proclaimed King of the Highway and Lover of the Fastlane, was beginning to flag. It wasn't their usual fare of country roads and straight stretches either. It had been bumper-to-bumper traffic on minimum-of-four lane interstates almost all the way from Wisconsin and, as Dean said, going 80 miles an hour isn't half so fun whenever you're doing a threesome with a tractor trailer on one side, a posse of insane motorcyclists in front, and a beat-up rust-bucket of a minivan behind. Sam himself felt a headache throbbing around the back of his head from sitting tensely in the car all day and watching for hazards and 'Exit Only' signs...a job that only grew more wearying as the day wore on and the light worsened. This was why they usually tried to stay away from interstates, even if it meant going out and around.

But for this trip there would be no adventuring down country straight stretches where Dean could test out the latest tinkering he had given to Baby's motor and try to hit 160 while Sam clung to the dashboard and laughed out threats about if Dean got them killed he would be driven to fratricide. No. This trip they had a very set mission and a deadline to get there. If omens really had been showing in Stull (the cemetery that neither brother even liked to think about) then they had to get there a.s.a.p before something bad happened or some other hunter blundered into the mess.

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><p>"Sammy! Hey, dude, wake up...found us a bolthole."<p>

Sam woke up with a jerk and nearly smacked his head off of the door. "Uhhhh" He groaned, scrubbing at his eyes and feeling generally like crap. "Where are we?"

"Some brand-name motel just off of the Kansas Turnpike." Dean said, sounding beat to hell. "Had to stop. Didn't want to risk wrapping my Baby around a signpost."

"And your brother?"

"Ehhh..."

"Great. Lovely. Nice to know I rank lower than the damn car."

Dean patted the Impala's hood. "Now don't you listen to him, Baby." He crooned soothingly. "Sammy's just bitchier than usual whenever he's sleepy. You know that."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and retrieved his duffel from the backseat, feeling his headache throbbing like an itch that just couldn't quite be scratched. Dean's non-stop Metallica concert in an effort to stay awake enough to drive hadn't helped matters and Sam was amazed that he had managed to drift off at all. Seemed like ever since the Trials he was sleeping an awful lot, though. Dean claimed it was just because he was still healing up, but Sam _felt _fine. He wasn't exhausted during the day or anything, but he did find it hard to function on the old Hunter standard of four or so hours of sleep any-more. Which was ridiculous because he'd been doing so for years. Maybe he'd just gotten used to extra sleep while he was sick...

"Hurry up, Sammy. I'm not getting any younger and I'm not hauling that gigantor ass of yours into the room if you fall asleep standing up."

The brothers stumbled into the room (minimal stains, cleaner-than-some-carpet, and a mould-free bathroom - praise the saints) and latched the door before collapsing on their respective beds (bedbug, flea, and lice-free - oh happy day).

"Should make Stull tomorrow afternoon." Dean mumbled, burrowing into his pillow.

Sam blinked heavy eyelids and huffed out a sigh. "What are we going to do whenever we get there?"

"Same thing we do on any other job - case the joint and then gank whatever fugly is messing with the natural order of the world."

"Right."

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><p>"You got the demon knife, Dean?" Sam was up to his elbows in their arsenal. They didn't know what would be waiting for them at the cemetery (could be anything from marauding angels trying to break Michael free to demons doing the same to Lucifer to just general supernatural ambience from the place) and it paid to be prepared. Well-armed and researched hunters tended to have a higher chance of survival than those who went in on a hope and a prayer and neither Sam or Dean were wanting another tour of the afterlife, so Dean let Sam put his OCD tendencies to good use in double-checking that they had everything they could possibly need.<p>

"Dean?"

"Hmmm?" Dean blinked at his brother who scowled.

"Wake up, Deanna Daydream. I was asking if you've seen the demon knife. It isn't here."

"Oh, right. Yeah. I got it...you take this." He held out an angel blade.

Sam stared. "Where did you get that?"

"From that bitch, April. Y'know...the Reaper chick?"

"The one Cas slept with?"

Dean wrinkled his nose. Did Sam really have to bring that up? "Yeah. That's the one."

Sam was looking pensive. "You know, I still don't understand why Cas decided to leave the Bunker." He said, tucking the angel blade into his belt. "It's the safest place for him to be."

Oh crap. Dean shifted nervously, feeling like a world-class heel for all the lies he was starting _again _with Sam. He could only hope that his little brother would forgive him for muddying their clean slate. "I don't know, Sam. Look. Let's just get this job done so we can head back home. I have a bag of laundry that's starting to get pretty ripe."

Arming themselves, the two brothers locked the trunk and headed towards the Stull cemetery, both of their minds fixed uncomfortably on the last time they had stood together in this place.

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><p><em>Cold. Dark. Hurt. Fear. Torment. Loneliness. Misery. Hellfire. <em>

_Eternal damnation. Hell._

_Burning, cleansing light. Rush of fresh wind. Screams of rage. Laughter. Sunlight. Pain. Blackness._

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><p>"See anything?"<p>

Sam looked around the barren cemetery, dotted with cracking, lichen-robed tombstones. "No. There's nothing...yet."

He could remember the last time he was standing in this place clear as day. If he closed his eyes he could almost see Dean's beaten, bloody face and feel the hot, rotten winds that whipped up from the opening to the Cage.

Maybe he had gotten better from the time that his head broke and the memories slowly drove him insane, but Sam Winchester never forgot. He still jerked awake sometimes in the dead of the night, gasping for breath and choking on the taste of sulphur and evil. He was out, but Hell left a stark stain on all who had passed through.

"Sam?" Dean was whispering now, breath hot and close to Sam's ear. It also, Sam noticed absently with a grimace, smelled extraordinarily like the bacon and pepper omelet Dean had eaten for breakfast at the diner.

"What?"

"Do you see something over there against that one stone angel?"

It wasn't hard for Sam to spot the place Dean had been speaking of. Just how many stone angels were in this cemetery anyway? Just one...old and crumbling (and missing the nose) as it was. And, sure enough, there was something at its feet.

Sam squinted. It _looked _like a body with two girls (one blond and one with blue hair) kneeling over it, giving CPR, but one could never be too sure. Would be just their luck they'd leave and those 'angels of mercy' would turn out to be Satanists trying to summon the Lord of Darkness to a new body they had prepared for him. That was the last thing the world needed!

"HEY!" Dean shouted, swaggering over. "I hate to bother you two ladies from...whatever it is you're doing. But could any of you spare a Christo?"

Both of the girls flinched and Sam stifled a groan as they turned to glare at his brother with identical inky-black stares. Oh sure, Dean. Go and piss off the demon chicks. It's not like they're likely to kill you or anything. It's a wonder you've made it to 34 without getting your ass KILLED! Oh wait...

It was a stand-off. Neither of the demons seemed to have the power to do the whole telekinesis thing (not that Sam was complaining) nor any desire to trade the usual smart-mouthed remarks with Dean (again...no complaints) but they did seem very keen on attempting to glare the brothers into submission.

Not that it was going to work. Winchesters were not so easily frightened by a (literally) black look. The only reason Dean hadn't already charged the demons was because of the body lying between them that was looking distinctly like the body of a young man. If he was still alive, Dean didn't want to risk the demons using him as leverage. So it was a stand-off.

A stand-off that was broken abruptly when the body suddenly gave an almighty gasp and landed an excellent right hook on the temple of the blond demon. She went down with a surprised _"OOOF!" _as the puncher jerked away from the electric blue one with a hoarse scream of "Get away from me, you bastards!"

Well Sam and Dean couldn't just leave the poor guy to be beat to hell by two demons, so they drew steel and jumped into the fray. Hey. The poor guy was having to grapple with demons while already looking like he went thirteen rounds with Godzilla. Those were terrible odds!

It was a jumbled mess of punches, kicks, grass in the eyes, swearing, and even a tiny bit of biting before Blue Hair took Dean by the hair and sat on him while Bondie tackled Sam to the ground and started to strangle him.

_Why is it always me? _He wondered as he gasped for breath and saw black spots begin to appear. What was it about his neck that was so appealing for every kind of nasty to strangle it? Whatever it was, he wanted it gone.

Just when Sam thought that maybe this time he would die via asphyxiation (hardly the most interesting way he had died) there was a scream and a burst of static from the demon straddling his chest as the knife pierced through her chest.

Sam coughed and shoved the limp body off of himself, trying to clear his airway and NOT suck in any of the dust kicked up by the fight. "Dean?" He croaked, looking around.

Well there was Dean, bloody knot on his head, picking himself up dazedly from where Blue Hair had apparently thrown him into a tombstone. So if Dean had been down for the count, who had stabbed Blondie?

"AAA! Bastards!"

Crap. Sam gave up on massaging his neck (he would just ice it later) and, with Dean, stumbled over to where the fight was still going on between Blue Hair and Mystery Guy. The dude was holding his own fairly well, even though he seemed to be half-mad and was slashing wildly at the demon who had him pinned against the stone angel.

"Stay away from me!" He screamed.

Sam was about to go and help (maybe offer his neck up for another session of demon-strangling if it would be a distraction long enough for Dean to stab the monster) whenever the kid succeeded in stabbing Blue Hair right through the throat. It was a lucky shot, if nothing else. Sam wasn't even entirely sure that the guy's eyes were focusing.

Blue Hair fell back with a gurgle, clutching at the wound as static flowed out with her blood. The mystery guy let out something that sounded distinctly like a sob and let go of the knife handle, clutching at his ears and hunkering down with a desperate shudder. The demon was still spluttered and sparking.

Dean made a noise of disgust and took the angel blade out of Sam's belt, stooping down and putting it through Blue Hair's chest. She was dead within seconds.

"You okay, kid?"

The stranger made a strange whimpering sound and backed up further against the stone angel. "No. No, no, no, no!" He mumbled, tearing at his already shredded clothes. "Noooo, please!"

"Hey, hey." Sam tried to speak softly (though with his throat it sounded more like a rasp) and approached with his hands held up. "We're not going to hurt you. We just want to know if you're okay."

"No. Leave me alone!"

"No can do, dude." Dean was wiping the weapons off on Blue Hair's faux zebra skin jacket.

"Please let us help. Even just give us a place or somewhere we can take you?" This was the hard part of the job...dealing with the victims of the supernatural world. "Are you okay?"

This last statement seemed at last to break through the stranger's hysteria as he froze for a moment before lifting dilated, streaming hazel eyes that were all too familiar. "S-Sam?"


	3. Adam?

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><p>"S-Sam?"<p>

"Oh my God!"

Sam swayed slightly as a wave of long-repressed memories flooded over him. Heat. Cold. Pain. The screams of souls being carved on the Rack outside the walls of the Cage. The smell of burning flesh. The utter evil that clung and tainted all. The absence of anything good, of anything worth fighting for...except for the other human soul caught in the fire-and-brimstone cell. His younger brother, Adam.

Adam who had never asked for such an evil fate. Adam who their father had tried so mistakenly to protect. Adam who had died at the hands of the Winchester curse because of his ignorance. Adam who had made the mistake of trusting angels (ANGELS!) and paid for it with his very soul.

Sam knew exactly why he had stayed on the Rack for so many years, even with the Devil himself manning it. After a time it had no longer been about Lucifer (and eventually Michael) punishing Sam for throwing the wrench into their plans. No, that was not enough for the trapped archangels and Satan began whispering in Sam's ear, telling him that the torture could be over just a moment if he would only say 'Yes'. That he could be let off the Rack if he would only put Adam on.

And every time Sam told them to go screw themselves. He may not have had much experience in being a big brother (the thing he had tried to bond with before had turned out to be a ghoul) but if he had learned one thing from Dean it was that older brothers didn't do that to the younger ones. Ever.

"Adam?" Sam was pulled back to the present as Dean knocked against his shoulder, stepping forward and speaking to the skittish Adam who flinched and pulled away.

"N-no. No...don't touch me!"

"Adam! Calm down! We're your brothers!"

"Just stay away!"

Sam exchanged a helpless look with his older brother. Adam (if this was indeed Adam and Sam was almost positive that it was) was nearly incoherent. Despite his apparently recognising Sam mere moments before, now there was little focus in his wild eyes. It was almost like speaking to a hunted animal which, Sam conceded, was what Adam had probably been. Hell was Hell and there was no way to even attempt to say that it was anything else.

He felt a pang of guilt for leaving his brother to suffer...

"Hey, buddy." Dean's voice was unusually soft (though even that made Adam flinch). "We're not going to hurt you. Just...just calm down."

He took a small step towards their younger half-brother...but that was the straw that broke the camel's back as Adam jerked away from them. "NO!" He screamed, stumbling back and breaking into a panicked run, zig-zagging through and stumbling over the tombstones.

Well that was unacceptable. In the state he was in now, no way could he hope to make it on his own. Sam certainly knew that whenever HE had come out of Hell he had been a bit unsteady for a while...something that had only gotten worse once the wall in his head had broken. He could only imagine what Adam must be feeling right now.

Sam and Dean took off after Adam, Dean catching up to him halfway across the graveyard and tackling him to the ground. The two brothers went down in a tangle of limbs as Adam weakly tried to fight him off before giving up and going utterly limp, curling up into a tight ball and protecting his face with his hands. "Stop...please stop!"

Something sickening twisted in Dean's gut. "Shhh." He said, using the voice usually only reserved for Sam.

Maybe he wasn't particularly fond of this kid. Maybe Adam's entire existence just made things awkward. Maybe they hadn't ever really known each other. But Dean knew kids and currently this one was shaking with tremors and shrinking away like he was expecting a blow. That called for a bit of common decency.

Then Sam was there, speaking softly and helping Dean pull Adam to his feet. "Hey, Adam." Sam said, pulling out the voice he usually reserved for talking to traumatised victims. "Adam. Look at me."

Slowly, agonisingly those red-rimmed hazel eyes dragged up to meet Sam's. "S-sam?" Adam stuttered, seeming only half-aware. "Is that...is that really you?"

Sam tried to smile. "Yeah. It is, Adam. Just breath."

Impossibly, Adam's eyes widened. "No, no. It c-can't be. I'm...I'm o-out?"

"Yeah, buddy. We've got you."

"No, but I was...I was...uhhh." His eyes rolled up in his head and Dean stumbled as Adam suddenly went limp, his dead weight pulling both his brothers down to the dusty ground.

* * *

><p>"What the hell, Sam?"<p>

"I know."

"No, seriously, what the hell?" Dean ran a hand through his hair and looked at the bed where they had laid Adam out. "I thought he was dead. Michael said there was nobody home!" He stopped suddenly. "That is Adam though, right?"

Sam nodded. "Far as I can tell, yeah." He said. "We did all the tests and he didn't react to salt, holy water, or silver."

"Then what the hell?"

The whole situation was very surreal. Dean hadn't really thought of his half-brother Adam Milligan since Sam got back from Hell. It wasn't intentional neglect or anything like that (he hated Death for making him choose between his brothers) but ever since Sam had returned there had been the Mother of All to worry about and the Great Wall of Sam and then God Castiel and then Leviathans and then, Dean's personal favourite, Exploding Dick Express To Purgatory...not to mention the whole fiasco with the Hellgate Trials. They had never intended to forget Adam (God no!) but stress and Apocalypse Round Whatever had pushed him from their minds.

But now, inexplicably, he was back. He was alive and out of Hell and lying motionless on a hotel bed looking like an extra from The Walking Dead with his ripped, bloody clothes and filthy appearance.

"We've got to check him over for injuries."

Dean snorted. "And get him cleaned up. Kid looks like Pigpen."

"That can come later." Sam said with a sigh. "Trust me...he's not going to want us touching his clothes while he's out. Adam just got out of _Hell _and I'm quite sure that Lucifer wouldn't have just left him alone after I was pulled out. So no. We don't strip him down and clean him up until he's at least conscious."_  
><em>

"Can we at least take care of his feet, then? I'm hurting just _looking _at them!"

Sam grimaced as he looked at Adam's bare and bloodied feet. "Yeah. You get some water while I get the first aid kid."

Dean popped the top off of the coffee pitcher and took it into the bathroom, rinsing out any potential residue and filling it up to the brim with some warm water. Sam was still out at the car getting the first aid kit out of the trunk, so Dean sat down by the bed with his water and looked at Adam's bruised face. "God, kid. What happened to you?"

He didn't have to ask, not really. From the tidbits of information he had got out of Sam's nightmare-mumbling and the occasional fevered rant (not to mention his own, personal tour) Dean knew all too well just what a trip to Hell would be like. He had told Sam that his trip would look like a cakewalk compared to the Cage, but now he realised that that applied to Adam as well. Sam wasn't the only one who had been locked in a box with two very angry archangels. It was a miracle Adam had even recognised them!

With a sigh, Dean leaned forward on his knees. Things were going to change drastically with this development. He no longer only had one little brother to look after. No...something had given Adam back to them (given them a second chance to right John's wrongs) and Dean would be damned (again) if he threw the kid out to the ghouls again.

Somehow they were going to have to find a way to make this work.


	4. Everything Has A Price

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><p>"Dean. We're out of pain meds." Sam came back into the room with their med kit in his hands.<p>

"What?"

"The bottle's empty. Guess we used the last of it after that last tangle with Abaddon."

Huh." Dean said. "Guess so. Time to raid another pharmacy, then."

Sam set the kit down on the foot of the bed. "Has he woken up?"

"Nope. Still out like a light." Dean poked at Adam's arm and frowned whenever he didn't even so much as twitch. "You've got the goods?"

"All except the pain reliever, yeah."

"Probably good that the kid's still out, then. Because this is going to hurt like a bitch."

Carefully, Dean took a clean rag and dunked it in the warm water. He started to clean off Adam's feet, mindful of the torn skin from where the younger man had dashed them off of rocks and sharp grass while grappling with the demons and running from them. As he went over the first cut he looked at Adam's face, but there was no reaction. Adam lay limp and pliable and, were it not for the warmth of his skin, Dean would be fumbling to double-check for a pulse.

As gently as he could, Dean ran the wet cloth over the cuts, wincing in sympathy as the dirt came away and some of the wounds (now clean) began to bleed. Beside him, Sam hissed in sympathy.

"Damn. Hope he can walk now that the adrenaline's worn off."

"Gimme the disinfectant." Dean said. "Don't think any of these need sewn up. They're just raw, mostly."

"I'm surprised he's not bleeding all over, to be honest." Sam started unrolling a length of gauze. "When Cas pulled you out you got the full Heavenly plastic surgery gig - " Dean gave him a Look. He did NOT appreciate Sam describing his scar-erasing resurrection like that. " - and whenever I got pulled out at least I was healed up like Adam...but we know Cas didn't pull Adam out. He couldn't without his Grace. So who did pull him out?"

"I don't know, Sammy. But, to be honest, until proven otherwise I'm not going to look this gift horse in the mouth. Maybe something good finally happened to us."

"Yeah, maybe. But how - " Sam suddenly cut off as his eyes flashed blue and his tall body un-hunkered. Dean knew that Ezekiel had taken over for the moment and, much as he was worried about that happening so easily, maybe the angel could offer a second opinion.

"Well, Zeke? Any insights?"

The angel placed a hand on Adam's sternum and arranged Sam's features into what might have been a frown. "Your brother is deeply troubled, Dean. He is weak and his spirit is very dark."

"Right, yeah, Hell will do that to you. Anything else?"

"He has multiple lacerations to his feet and ankles, presumably from the fight in the graveyard."

"No shit, Sherlock. That is what Sam and I were trying to take care of before you butted in."

That earned Dean a glare from Ezekiel. It was _still _creepy as all get out to see the angel peering out from Sam's eyes. "You asked me if there was anything else amiss, Dean. Do not lash out because I answered the question."

Dean swallowed back a few very uncomplimentary angel-related comments with difficulty. He was more than grateful to Ezekiel for healing Sam and getting him back on his feet...but God was the angel annoying sometimes! It was bad enough that Dean had had to turn Cas out of the Bunker (he winced as he remembered the betrayed expression on Cas' face) but now he was emerging without being summoned just to spout off obvious crap? Dean would have to lie to Sam again now too because no way would Sam's freaky-big brain ignore blacking out in the middle of a sentence like that. Everything about this sucked.

"Can you heal him?" Well. Might as well make use of the angel while he was there.

Ezekiel looked mildly constipated (which Dean figured was probably as close to an 'annoyed' look as he was capable of) and his voice whenever he spoke definitely had some of Sam's bitchiness bleeding through. "I am already close to spent from bringing your sister back from the embrace of a Reaper, Dean." He said. "You cannot continue to keep me at your beck and call like this."

"Okay, so first off, Charlie's not exactly my sister and you're not my dog and secondly...I didn't call you!"

"If you want me to be able to continue healing your brother while healing myself, you cannot ask me to be healing and resurrecting everyone that strikes your fancy to have healed or resurrected. It puts a serious drain on my Grace that leaves me weakened. And I am all that is holding your brother together. I have been masking the effects of the Trials from him so that he can rest and take in sustenance to aid in the healing process, but if I were to leave now he would quickly regress to where he was whenever you first called to me."

"Yeah, Zeke, I get that. Can you heal Adam? It's just a few cuts on his feet (not like a knife through the heart or anything) but they're gonna sting like hell whenever he wakes up, so..."

There was another look from Ezekiel. "You do realise that, if I do this, your brother's health will slightly worsen as it will weaken me."

"So you've said. But I say that it's only Adam's feet and, damn it all, we need to take as much pain away as we can if we're going to help him out. You let me worry about Sam turning picky-eater again."

"As you wish."

There was a slight glow as Ezekiel reached out and placed a hand over the abused flesh on Adam's feet. The cuts and gashes began to sew themselves back together while the raw places scabbed over.

Much to Dean's displeasure, though, the angel stopped before the wounds disappeared entirely.

"What was that?"

"Insurance." Ezekiel panted, sounded spent. Dean looked up in concern (that angel _was_ wearing Sam, after all) and found to his dismay that Sam's face had gone deathly pale and that there was a slight trickle of blood from his nose.

"The hell, Zeke? I thought you were going to heal Adam, not wipe Sam out! You said it would make him a bit sick again, not close to collapsing!"

The angel wiped at the blood with an unsteady hand. "Do you not think that Sam would become suspicious if these wounds disappeared entirely?" He asked, infuriatingly rational. "Remember - Sam cannot know about my presence. He would eject me and that would be detrimental to us both."

Dean sighed...lies, lies, lies. How he hated them! "Well you look like crap just now."

"I fail to see how I could possibly resemble fecal matter." Now Dean felt compelled to roll his eyes. What was it with angels and taking things literally anyway? Ezekiel was still talking, "I also do not have the strength to completely heal your youngest brother without jeopardising both my own strength and all of the progress Sam has made. I'm not the angel on your shoulder and I can't be always just cleaning up your messes." He swayed slightly...alarmingly enough that Dean got to his feet from where he had been kneeling with the now-unneeded disinfectant and gauze.

"Okay, dude. I think it's time for you to go to your happy place and get some rest."

"Indeed. What will you tell your brother?"

Dean chewed on his lip. How _was _he to explain this to Sam? "Look, uh, Ezekiel. Lay down on the carpet? Then do whatever it is you usually do to Sam's mind after one of these sessions and I'll just tell him that he passed out or something. It's very nearly the truth." _Please forgive me, Sammy_.

"Very well." It was sadly comical to see an angel stiffly and awkwardly lower Sam's gigantic frame and stretch it out on the floor. There was a minute flash of blue from Sam's eyes and then he groaned, sinking into what Dean really hoped was a sleep. Great. Sam looked like hell again. But they could deal with that. A couple of hot meals and about a dozen coffees and he'd be dancing the can-can. Adam was going to be their great priority now and, much as Dean hated seeing Sam look so awful, he wasn't sorry for having Adam's feet healed. The next few days and weeks were going to be rough. The last thing they needed was to have to disinfect and clean possibly-festering wounds while also attempting to deal with the horror show that was undoubtedly going on inside Adam's head.

He set about putting the gauze to use and gently wrapping Adam's feet up in a protective layer. No need to broadcast the miraculous healing to Sam, after all.

Speak of the devil...

Sam shifted on the floor, blinking dazedly and letting out a confused groan. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Why am I on the floor?"

Stupid lies. "You passed out, Sam. We were working on the kid's feet here and you just keeled over."

Sam sat up with a jerk that had Dean wincing (if he really had passed out that move would have ensured an encore performance). "What? Why'd I do that, Dean?"

"I don't know...ask your subconscious!" Actually, on second thought, don't. You don't need to know about the angel lurking there. Nope, no. Not yet.

The now middle Winchester scrubbed at his eyes. "Ach. I feel like crap...tired, achy...do you think I caught something?"

Dean tried for his most reassuring smile. "You've got to remember that you're still pretty beat to hell, Sam." He said, winding the gauze around Adam's left big toe. "You're not just recovering from some run-of-the-mill flu bug, after all."

"Yeah, I guess."

Sam struggled to his feet, weaving precariously and looking pale in a way that had Dean springing to steady him. "Easy there, Sasquatch! I think it's time for you to hit the sack."

Sam blinked for a moment and Dean was worried that maybe he would protest when, "Okay. I can do that." He promptly toppled into the bed not occupied by Adam and was asleep within seconds.

Dean shook his head and sat in a chair, watching his two little brothers (and wasn't that a crazy thought!) sleep. One exhausted and currently oblivious to years of torment in Hell, the other sickly and oblivious to the fact that an angel slept inside as well. How was he going to deal with this?

He was so screwed.


	5. Well That Went Well

.

* * *

><p>When Sam awoke the next morning it was to a lance of light from the window (where the curtains were <em>just short enough <em>to let a piercing beam from the rising sun through) in the eye and a pained groan.

The groan was not from him, so Sam risked cracking open and eye and squinting through the sunlight to find out who it was. After a bit of groggy searching he found Dean, presumably awoken by the same laser of sunlight, stretching and wincing as he worked out the kinks in his neck. Really, Dean should know better than to spend the night in a motel chair. That ALWAYS ended badly. What...had he spilled gun oil on his bed again? Dean really could be such a clean freak germaphobe sometimes.

Sam yawned and, appreciating a night without gasping awake at any point, let the warm, cottony fog of sleep pull him back under. It just felt so _good_.

"Good morning, Sammy!"

Damn. So much for sleeping in...

Sam _meant _to wish Dean a good morning too (and maybe ask him to do something about the truncated curtains) but all that came out of his mouth was a mumbled. "Coffee?"

Hey. Dean wasn't the only one who relied on booze at night and caffeine in the mornings._  
><em>

Dean ran a hand through his hair, cracking the vertebrae in his neck. "What was that, Sam?"

"Is there any coffee?"

"Yeah. One of your girly mint frappudinoees or whatever in the fridge from yesterday." Green eyes looked Sam up and down with concern. "How are you feeling?"

Cautiously Sam sat up, flinching as the sun struck him right in the eyes and then rolling said eyes as Dean frowned in concern. "I'm fine, Dean." He said hoarsely.

"Sure?" Dean had really reverted back to his mother-hen ways, thanks to the Trials. Sam wasn't sure whether to be happy about that or not. On the one hand, after so long, it was nice to have Dean fuss over him again and to feel that they were more-or-less on the same page after so many years of lies and Hell and everything else. On the other hand, though, he was a grown-ass man and Mother Bear Dean could be a bit overbearing and even stifling at times.

And Sam realised that he had been silent for FAR too long (His head was _really _full of cobwebs this morning!) so he smiled at Dean and swung his legs over the side of the bed, yawning. "I'm fine, really. Bit achy, I guess. But nothing to worry about."

"Here, caffeinate and eat." Dean tossed the leftover frappuccino and half of a minimart turkey sandwich at Sam who caught it and also caught sight of the figure in Dean's bed.

"Whoa!" Dean surged forward and caught Sam as he swayed. "Easy there, Sammy! I thought you said you were all right!"

"Adam's sleeping in your bed."

"Yeah, he is. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm _fine_, Dean! Just...is that really Adam?"

Dean peered at Sam. "Just how hard did you hit your head yesterday?"

Sam frowned. "I wasn't the one playing pinball with the tombstones, Dean." He said. "And I'm fine, it's just...that's really Adam? I mean, he's really out?"

"Yeah, Sammy, he is. We've got him."

Sam sank down at the foot of the bed and realised belatedly that he was crushing the turkey sandwich in his hand until it turned into unpalatable mush, so he chucked it onto the coverlet and took a swig of the cold coffee to clear his head. Whenever he passed out last night he must have rattled his brains a bit if he had forgotten the biggest part of what had happened to them yesterday.

He looked over at Adam who was sleeping curled into himself on one side, mouth wide open as he snored lightly.

"What the hell, Dean?"

"I know." Dean moved the destroyed sandwich out of the way and sat down on Sam's bed. "I have no idea what happened yesterday."

Sam took another drink of his coffee, hoping it would clear his head. "How did he get out?"

His (older) brother shrugged. "No idea. I don't know what we're dealing with here. We won't know until he wakes up."

"Wait, is he still unconscious?"

"Nope." Dean unwrapped the sandwich and shoved its remains at Sam. "Eat."

Sam wrinkled his nose. "'M not really hungry."

"And I'm not listening. Get that down your gob while we try to figure out what to do with the runt in the bed there."

Sam took a bite of the sandwich (it wasn't as bad as he had figured...just a bit smashed) and spoke through the crumbs. "How is he?"

"Sleeping. Kid woke up last night around midnight - "

"Why didn't you rouse me?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Because he just blinked at me, muttered something that sounded like 'Taco Bell', and promptly went back to sleep. He hasn't moved since."

"Taco Bell?"

"Hell if I know." Dean grabbed Sam's frappuccino and took a swig, grimacing at the mint after-taste. "I'm just grateful that he didn't freak out on us again, y'know?" Sam nodded, chewing. "After all," Dean went on, "his eggs are still pretty well scrambled and - "

"You do realise that I can hear you, right?"

Both brothers jumped and turned around to see a pair of hazel eyes glaring at them from where Adam was sitting up in bed with arms crossed defensively over his chest.

"Adam!" Dean exclaimed, plastering a smile on his face. "You're awake."

Adam raised an eyebrow at him in an expression that screamed 'DUH!'. "Your point?"

"How are you feeling?"

Sam was favoured with a black look. "I feel like I just got my ass royally served to me, my ass is burning, and I'm thirsty." He threw off the covers and stared at his bandaged feet. "Oh. Lovely."

His older brothers exchanged a look. Dean cleared his throat. "Christo."

"Bless you." Adam snarked right back. "Are you getting a cold?"

So it wasn't a demon inhabiting their brother's body...and he hadn't reacted to silver or iron or any of their other tests, so what was with the dramatic personality change from the crying, confusing, crazed young man of yesterday? Had Hell given him multiple personality disorder or something? (Not that either Sam or Dean would blame him if it had...)

"Are you hungry, Adam?" Dean asked at last. "We've got nothing in at the moment, but I could head out and pick up something from the McDonald's if you want it."

"You two can stop it now."

Dean shot Sam a confused look. "Stop what?"

"Playing home-sweet-home or whatever you call this dusty dump. I'm not stupid, y'know, and I'm not going to fall for it again."

"What?"

"DAMN IT ALL!" Adam suddenly yelled. "STOP PLAYING AT BEING SAM AND DEAN!"

Ohhh...crap. Suddenly it all made too much sense.

Sam looked stricken, like he knew only too well what Adam thought he was trapped in. "We're not the archangels, Adam." He said as gently as he could.

Adam just snorted. 'Yeah, sure." He scoffed. "Try lying out of the other side of your ass, Lucy, and maybe next time I'll listen."

There was a choking sound from Dean as he tried to swallow back an unbidden laugh. "Lucy?!" He said at last, face looking a bit red. "Seriously?"

"If the halo fits."

Sam shot Dean an annoyed look. "Look, Adam, we know you have no reason to believe us...but he's not Michael and I'm not Lucifer. You're out. You're not in Hell."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." That was Dean, recovered from his 'coughing fit' and now looking deadly serious.

"Nice try." Adam said coldly, inching back until he was pressed against the headboard. "But you must think I'm an absolute idiot."

"God! It's like talking to a brick wall!" Dean threw his hands up in disgust and then regretted it when Adam visibly flinched. Damn. It was like dealing with Sam the first week after his Wall broke. Or the month or so after he let Lucifer out and was sure Dean was going to kill him in his sleep. Or Sam half-delirious from grief and lack of sleep in the weeks right after Jessica. In fact, come to think of it, maybe dealing with Adam wouldn't be so hard after all. He _was _just a little brother, after all. More than that...he was Dean's little brother.

Dean surged forward (ignoring Adam flinching again) and seized hold of Adam's big toe...right where he KNEW there was still a rather large cut and section of raw skin, "Listen to me, Adam." He said, using what Sam liked to call his 'No-Nonsense Voice'. "You are out of Hell...no, no, shut up and listen to me! I don't know how much the angels or whatever told you, but I've been to Hell and so has Sam. We know what it feels like and we know that pain is different down there." He dug his nail into Adam's foot and watched him hiss in a breath and writhe slightly, but he kept going. "Feel that?"

Adam gasped, eyes wide with something between reluctant hope and pained fear, and nodded jerkily. "You are out, Adam. You're here in a no-name motel near Stull, Kansas with Sam and with me. Do you understand."

The kid nodded vigorously, finally yanking his foot away and cradling it protectively. "Dammit!" He protested, tears of pain streaming from his eyes. "Fine, yes! I believe you...I think."

"Good." Dean sat back. "Now what do you want for breakfast?"

"How about a double-shot of morphine?"

"Stop whining. I didn't amputate your toe."

Sam looked like he was stifling a small smile whenever Adam looked up at Dean with a particularly interesting version of the bitchface (that made him look scarily like Sam, in fact) and said, "I kind of wish you had. At least then it would just hurt in phantom pain instead of the real damn thing." He got out of bed shakily, glaring off any attempts by his brothers to help steady him. (NOT that Dean was coddling the kid, no, of course not...he just looked like he was about to collapse and Dean didn't want to try and explain him to an ER, that was all.) Adam scratched at his dirty, torn clothes and looked around the room. "Okay, fine, so still not entirely convinced that this isn't another trick, just so you know, but while it lasts I'm going to take a shower."

"By all means."

"You can borrow some of Dean's clothes." Sam said as Adam limped towards the bathroom. "They should fit you better than mine."

"Thanks. You know? If this is an illusion, Lucy and Michelle are getting damn better at it."

Dean swallowed hard. He couldn't tell if this was just Adam being sarcastic or not (he barely knew the kid) but if Adam was being serious, they had some SERIOUS issues to work out.

Sam seemed to have the same thought. "Did they, uh, make you think you were out before?"

Adam shot him a poisonous look and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.

"Well..._that _went well." Dean sighed.


	6. Just Breathe

.

* * *

><p>"And Miss America emerges!"<p>

Adam glared at Dean as he emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam and clenched the motel towel tighter around his waist with one hand so he could use the other to salute Dean with one finger.

Sam shot Dean a glare too...but it was less of the 'go screw yourself' scowl and more of the 'behave yourself' bitchface. "I think you're going to have to wear some of my pants, Adam. Unless you have a belt."

"I had one, with my old clothes. But it's pretty dirty...wait." Adam froze for a moment, a look of uttermost horror crossing his face. "Please don't tell me I'm going to have to wear borrowed boxers?"

"'Fraid so, brother, unless you plan on going commando." Dean said.

"Crap. Wonderful. Just my luck..." Grumbling, Adam vanished back into the bathroom with his armful of borrowed clothes.

While he was changing (and preening, or whatever the hell was taking so long) Sam offered to go and get breakfast.

"Sure thing. But nothing with meat in it...you'll be happy to know you can finally get me to eat vegan."

"What?"

Dean nodded towards the closed bathroom door and lowered his voice. "Really don't think it would be wise to be waving cooked meat under his nose right now. He seems to be doing well, no need to screw with his head."

"Right." Oh yes, Sam remembered all too well how memories of Hell could pervert even something as relatively innocuous as a strip of bacon into a piece of your own charbroiled skin. He had been shocked whenever Dean turned down an offer of steak the week after his miraculous return, thanks to Cas, but ever since his own trip to Hell Sam understood what his brother must have been going through. It was a nasty business, craving a certain food but being unable to eat it because of the bad memories it evoked. That was the way Hell kept torturing even after you got out.

"Tell you what, Sammy." Dean said, getting to his feet with a grunt. "How about I go grab us some grub and you try and talk to the kid."

"He has a name, you know." Sam said.

'Yeah, well, I don't think he's exactly my biggest fan right now." With that, Dean was out the door. He ran across the parking lot to the McDonald's and picked up enough food to feed a small army (or two little brothers who needed to eat) making it back with his load of grease and swill in record time. When he got back to the room he found Adam sitting tensely on the bed (dressed in one of Dean's shirts and a pair of Sam's jeans rolled up Tom Sawyer style) while Sam checked and re-bandaged his feet (which were, Dean noted, looking markedly better...thanks to Zeke).

Adam himself, though, was looking spectacularly pale and sweat beaded his upper lip. Dean wasn't sure if this was because his feet had to still hurt quite a bit or if he still didn't entirely believe that he was indeed out of Hell, but his money was on the later because he figured Adam would rather die than show weakness in front of his brothers over a few cuts and scrapes. He might not know the kid very well...but it takes one to know one. Family trait.

"Soup's on, bros! Come and get it!" He said as he set out the egg muffins and orange juice.'

Sam rolled his eyes at the grease-soaked papers. "Did you get anything _not _processed to the point of needing an exorcism?"

"Hey. Don't diss the McMuffins." Dean winked at Adam, trying to draw the kid out. "Heaven on your tongue and he can't even appreciate it."

"Do you have any idea how much cholesterol is in those things?"

Dean clapped a hand over his heart. "You speak sacrilege! Don't take Sammy's side."

"I'm not. Just sayin'...ow!" Adam jerked his foot away and glared at Sam. "What the hell? That hurt!"

"It was alcohol-based disinfectant. It was supposed to hurt."

"Please tell me you didn't just dump whiskey or whatever over my feet. You do realise that whenever you drink out of a bottle like that you backwash so it isn't really a totally sanitary form of disinfectant any-more?"

Dean paused in squirting ketchup on his eggs to stare at Adam. "What are you, Doctor Oz?"

He was treated to a bland scowl from Adam as the youngest brother finished his own bandaging. "My mother _was _a nurse. And I was in pre-med."

"Ah..."

Neither older brother wanted to touch THAT one with a ten foot pole...Sam remembered the _last _time he tried to talk about the ghoul incident with Adam. It had been all those years ago in Bobby's kitchen. And it hadn't ended well.

For his part, Adam got gingerly to his feet and, one hand holding Sam's jeans in place, limped over to where his newly-clean and still rather damp belt hung over the tarnished towel rack.

"We're going to have to hit up the thrift shop." Sam said. "He can't keep on wearing our clothes. Yours are too big and mine too long."

"'He' is right here." Adam threw back irritably as he tried to both hold the jeans above his hips and thread the belt through the loops with one hand.

"'He' had better shut up and concentrate on making sure he doesn't moon us." Dean said. "But Sam's right, kid. We're taking you shopping...get you some clothes made for scrawny scarecrows - "

"HEY!"

" - so I can have my boxers back."

Adam was almost pouting. "Who are you calling scrawny?" He demanded, "I'll have you know that I am quite well built, considering it all!"

Dean gave a pointed look at the faded AC/DC teeshirt that was hanging off of Adam's shoulders. "Sure, kid, sure." He said. "Whatever you say." He turned back to the table and squished his egg-and-ketchup muffin sandwich together, much to Sam's disgust. "But we are still taking you shopping...get some decent protection to put on your feet. Can't walk around in bandages forever. They won't let you into a bar."

"Right, because that's the most important reason." Sam said at the same time as Adam spoke,

"Well EX-CUUUSE me for neglecting my Nike sneakers while I was breaking out of He - " He cut off suddenly and there was a dull thud.

"Adam?"

"Oh my God!" Dean turned as Sam rushed passed him and knelt down next to Adam as he writhed and flopped about on the floor like a fish out of water. He even had the gasping to go along with it. Sam grabbed his right arm, carefully tapping his face. "Adam? Hey...Adam? Dude, can you hear me?"

Adam just groaned.

Dean was given vivid flashbacks to that terrible day in Rhode Island when Sam had experienced his first glimpse through a crack in the wall. He had held on to Sam in nearly the same manner that Sam now was holding Adam. God. Could their family never catch a damn break?!

"Hey, hey, buddy." Sam was saying softly, murmuring the way a parent might comfort a child during a nightmare. (The thought suddenly struck Dean that this was something Sam had done for Adam before...in Hell itself.) "Snap out of it, Adam, breath. You're out. You're safe. I've got you. You're fine."

* * *

><p><em>Dark. Cold. Flames. Burning. Screams. Alone. Archangels. Laughter. Torment. Eternal damnation. Hell. Hell. Hell. HELL!<em>

_Oh God he knew it. He KNEW it! This always happened. Just whenever he thought that maybe he was out...that maybe he was free...he said or did something wrong and woke up back here in the Cage again while the angels tore at his skin and burnt his soul._

_How could he have been so foolish? How could he have opened himself up like that? He had been starting to trust the illusion. STUPID! STUPID!_

_God it hurt! _

_If he believed the vision he was punished. If he didn't believe the vision he was punished. If the angels were angry he was punished. If the angels were bored he was punished._

_Pain unending. Loneliness. No hope. No forgiveness. No deliverance. Nothing but pain. Eternal damna - _

"Adam! Adam, listen to me!"

_Wait...that was Sam. Was Sam still in Hell too? Hadn't he been pulled out? No. No he COULDN'T still be there! If he was, why was Adam alone?_

"Hey, Adam, hey...breath. You're safe, I've got you."

"S-Sam?" Adam croaked, cracking open his eyes to see a blurry blob with a lot of hair hovering over him.

The blob grinned. "Yeah. It's me. You okay?"

"No."

Adam tried to sit up, but Sam put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. "Hey, hey, take it easy!"

Feeling rather foolish (this was all starting to look like a scene from Disney's _Snow White_, Adam lay back and shoved Sam's ginormous hand off. His heart rate was beginning to slow and, with it, his tolerance for being babied.

Behind Sam, Dean was hovering and all but wringing his hands. "How are you feeling, Adam?"

Adam's eyes narrowed around the headache pounding its way through his skull. "I feel like crap...like I was just sprinting non-stop through flaming quicksand for a couple week. And trust me I know what that feels like." Both brothers grimaced and Adam decided he had had enough. "Get off me!" He said, clambering shakily to his feet and shoving past Sam.

"Aren't you going to eat breakfast?"

"No, Dean. I'm not hungry." Adam flopped into bed and rolled onto his stomach, burying his face (that was totally not wet with tears) into the pillows so he didn't have to look at his brothers. He was not crying...he wasn't! He just felt sick and tired and wanted to be knocked into blissful oblivion so he didn't have to deal with all of the terrible memories swirling just outside his subconscious, threatening to break through whenever any little hair trigger was tripped. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. _You're fine. You're safe. You're fine. Just breath._

His brothers exchanged a worried look over his head.

* * *

><p>"What the hell?"<p>

"What was that, small-fry?"

When Adam didn't even protest the nickname with an exasperated sigh, Dean looked up in concern and found him staring at the newspaper Sam had been using to research obituaries. Dean wasn't sure, but he thought Adam's hands might have been trembling a bit.

Crap. Maybe the comic section wasn't wise for him to read after all. Maybe something triggered a flashback (Dean had always _felt _that Garfield was satanic!) Maybe there was an article containing torture. Maybe...

"I've been gone for six years?"

...maybe things were just about to get awkward. Damn Sam for being gone at such an inconvenient time as this! Dean would never say it to his face, but Sam was much better at dealing with Adam than he was. Maybe it was because the two of them had shared what Crowley liked to call a 'foxhole' in Hell?

"What, Adam?"

The youngest brother looked up. "The date on this paper says 2015. Whenever I left college because of Mom disappearing it was only 2009...so it's been six years."

Dean couldn't see what the issue was with that. "Yeah, sort of. Except you were, um, sort of dead for at least one year."

"I know. Damn ghouls."

"Mmm."

The brothers sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Adam spoke up again. "So I was...downstairs for five years of Earth time." He said.

Dean noted the hesitation before 'downstairs' with a frown. Adam had been doing that a lot recently - refusing to mention Hell unless it was as an explicative. "We don't know how long it was, Adam." He said.

"Yeah, I kinda got that. Hence the usage of 'Earth time'?" There was a definite sneer in Adam's voice. "It took you two hulks five friggan' years to get me out?"

"Cracking open Hell isn't easy, Adam. It took an angel at full-strength to pull me out...and I was _supposed _to come out."

"So you're saying I didn't? Gee, thanks, bro!" Adam glared bitterly at Dean who scrambled for an answer that wouldn't set him off or make things worse.

"I didn't say that, Adam. Getting in to Hell is easy - " Despite himself, Adam winced, " - but getting out is harder."

"You don't think I know that?"

"Shut up and listen. It wasn't like we could just waltz down into Hell and skip out arm-in-arm with you. I barely made it out, and I was in the normal part of Hell. It took Cas _and _Death himself to pull Sam free and more-or-less in one piece...and I had to bribe Death."

"But did it take you five years?" Dean was silent. What could he say that wouldn't be another outright lie destined to come back and bite him in the ass? "Yeah. that's what I thought." Adam threw the newspaper on the table and stalked over to his bed, pulling out a pair of earbuds and putting his back to Dean in a clear dismissal.

* * *

><p><strong>Please read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	7. Baby Brother Steps

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* * *

><p>"Hey, guys. I'm back!"<p>

Dean breathed a sigh of relief as Sam came in through the door, arms full of shopping bags. The atmosphere in the tiny motel room had been tense, at best, what with Adam laying on the bed listening to Sam's iPod and determinately ignoring Dean's very existence (and with Dean trying not to stare at Adam) so the interruption was MORE than welcome. Sam had gone on a trip to the local thrift shop after declaring that if he had to watch Adam hike up his jeans one more time he was going to go crazy (Dean promptly informed him of how wrong that sounded, prompting a prudish blush and a bitchface).

Adam yanked the earbuds out and sat up (his eyes were suspiciously red). "What?"

Sam slung a bag at him, hitting him in the midsection. "Clothes that might be your size. Even ran them through a laundromat so you don't have to smell like that spray they use on the donations."

Adam held up a purple plaid shirt with a doubtful expression.

"Get in the bathroom and try them on." Dean said. "At least it'll give you something to wear aside from my boxers."

"Go on, Adam." Sam tossed him the other clothes. "There's a pair of sandals in there too. We'll take you shopping later, but at least this should give you enough that you won't have to wear my jeans to bed."

"You bought me second-hand _shoes_?!" Adam's voice cracked rather hilariously on that last note and he dug out the offending items, holding them between two fingers.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "And? Be grateful you have shoes so you don't have to walk around like a treehugger hippie."

Adam snorted. "Oh I'm grateful, don't get me wrong." He said. "But do you have any idea just how NASTY second-hand shoes are? Like you can get athlete's foot from them! Or infected blisters. Or...or toenail fungus! Ew!"

Sam tipped his head to the side, considering. "You'll have to wear them with socks, then." He said at last. Adam's mouth fell open.

"What? Are you for real?"

"Why not? It'll put something between your feet and the leather."

"First off," Adam said, shifting the couple shirts and jeans in his hands, "I'm pretty sure those shoes are about as far from leather as you're going to find. Secondly...socks and sandals feel weird. And look weird. And - "

"Oh for God's sake, stop being such a drama queen!" Dean slammed the magazine he was reading shut, ignoring Adam's flinch. "Just get your ass into the bathroom and let us know what fits and what we need to destine for bandages, capiche?"

Adam pouted, lower lip trembling in a move that Dean was _certain _had to be a ploy, and shuffled into the bathroom.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Dean huffed through the back of his nose and threw his hands up in disgust. "I have never SEEN such a little brat!" He exclaimed. "Really? Seriously? 'It feels and look weird'?"

Sam shrugged. "He didn't grow up the same way we did, Dean. We're used to scrounging up whatever is cheapest at the thrift shops and living in crappy motels...Adam isn't."

"Still doesn't give him an excuse to be a whiny bitch."

"He is just back from an extended tour of downstairs too." Sam pointed out with a sideways look at the closed bathroom door. "You remember what it's like, getting jerked out of _there _and spat into the real world. Hell...we of all people should know! But Adam didn't have the experience that we did and he was down there longer. To be honest, I'd rather he was whining about clothes than writhing on the floor screaming."

Dean had to concede that point.

* * *

><p>Adam sprawled in one of the chairs, watching a Jersey-Shore rerun as he petulantly picked at the threadbare and exceedingly pilly-balled pyjama pants. As it turned out, Sam was a rather excellent judge of size (something Dean had teased him about to no end) and only one particularly hideous teeshirt had gone to the official Winchester Bandage Bag. Not that they really needed such a make-shift one any more. Hell...they didn't even spend time sleeping in the Impala any-more.<p>

With the discovery of the Men of Letters Bunker (affectionately dubbed the 'Batcave' by Dean) they were no longer officially homeless. Not that they had been before...the Impala had provided a protection against the elements and wheels to get them around since they were children...but now they had a house and a kitchen and a HUGE library filled with long-lost knowledge about hunting every species and type of baddie known to mankind.

No longer was dirty laundry done in the cheapest of laundromats. It was stored and taken back to the ancient but functional machines in the Batcave. Diner food was consumed because it was cheap and fast, but now Dean had a kitchen and both of them couldn't help but miss his home-cooked burgers. Motels too. Dean definitely longed for his memory foam whenever the motel of the night (because living off credit-card fraud _still _wasn't lucrative...some things hadn't changed) was particularly grungy or uncomfortable.

Speaking of beds...

"Do you have to watch that crap, Adam?" Dean complained as Snooki and some dude named The Situation started clumsily making out after a shrill screaming match.

"You're the one who told me I couldn't watch Teen Titans." Adam shot back. "And the only other channel this thing gets is the cooking channel where a bunch of people taste-test things and pretend to be shocked at how good it is."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. They had vetoed Teen Titans after Sam recalled seeing an advertisement about how one of the characters had a father who looked eerily like the Devil. The last thing they needed was for Adam to go through another flashback. One had been quite enough for the day, thank you very much! "Just...could you turn down the volume? Damn thing's giving me a headache."

Adam rolled his eyes, but punched the button to lower the volume. Dean had to remind himself that the kid - for that was what he was - was still only 19 years old. Being dead and being in Hell always preserved one's physical body and mind, even if it aged the soul. Adam was still a teenager. He was still young. He was allowed to be petulant.

But Goddammit did he have to be so annoying about it?

"We should probably all be heading to bed anyway." Sam said, making no move to shut his laptop.

"Yeah, well, don't know if you noticed, Sasquatch, but there's only two beds. And I'm NOT spending another night in the chair. I don't think my neck could take it."

Sam kept on typing. "Well then take the bed." He said, not even looking up. "I'll sleep on the floor."

Dean peered at the carpet. Eh...it was cleaner than some things they'd slept on, but still! "Nope. No can do, Sammy. You're still recovering, remember? You take the bed."

"You're the oldest. You can't be sleeping on the floor."

"Sammy!" Dean was _sure _there was an insult in there. Sam just looked at him stubbornly. "Fine, fine! We'll just have to share, then. Make sure you keep your hands and octopus limbs to yourself!"

"Don't you steal the blankets."

"God! You two fight like an old married couple!" That comment earned Adam a double glare from both his brothers, but he didn't seem too concerned.

Finally, around ten-o-clock, the three brothers finally wound down enough to go to sleep - Adam in one bed and Sam and Dean in the one closest to the door. It wasn't the optimal setting. Really the last time they had done this had been right after Sam's wall broke and they were hiding out in Rufus' cabin with Bobby (and Dean was SURE Sam had gotten still a bit taller and more clingy since then...he also had very large, very cold feet) but they couldn't very well ask Adam to share with somebody. That would just be weird.

Though, Dean reflected around midnight as Sam flailed and smacked him in the nose, it might have been a bit less likely to give him an injury. Why couldn't Sam just curl up and sleep like a normal person? At least at the cabin it had just been on a floor nest of blankets while Bobby attempted to resurrect the ancient, musty mattresses to something that wouldn't choke them to death in their sleep...this was ridiculous! Dean shoved Sam's arm off his face and put his knee into his brother's back as retaliation. That should make Sam keep his distance!

It was one-o-clock in the morning when Adam woke up screaming.


	8. Highway to Hell

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* * *

><p>Three days. Three days with nothing to do. Three days holed up in a tiny (albeit fairly clean) motel room that felt, at turns, like a pressure cooker and a horror film mashed up together. Three nights nights of awkwardly sharing a bed with Squid Sammy and enduring abuse from his long legs. Three days of Adam not saying much aside from acidic snark. Three days of him mumbling and sometimes screaming in his sleep, crying and clinging to Sam and then steadfastly denying it all by the light of day. Three days of walking on eggshells for fear of setting off another flashback. Three excruciatingly long days.<p>

Dean never had been particularly good at sitting in one place for a long time. He had lived life as a nomad ever since he was four and he just couldn't _stand _sitting and twiddling his thumbs for longer than a couple of days at a time. There was stuff to do, places to be, fuglies to gank...which was probably why they had never gone on any family vacations (aside from the annual trip to Vegas to hustle up some backup cash) and why even his beloved kitchen couldn't hold him in the Batcave for extended periods of time.

"All ready to go, kiddo?"

Adam sat on the bed, looking at the thrift shop sandals with extreme distaste as he slowly pulled on his socks. "Do I really have to wear these?" He asked.

"Yup." Dean made a quick sweep of the fridge and bathroom to make sure they hadn't left anything. "The parking lot's gravel out there and I don't want you messing your feet up again. So you either wear the sandals or I carry your ass bridal-style out to the car...your choice."

With a martyred sigh, Adam gingerly reached down with two fingers and pulled the offending items onto his feet.

Dean couldn't see what he was complaining about. They weren't even all that gross. Now some of the _sneakers _their family had purchased second-hand over the years? Yeah. Those were the ones that a body should be wary about. At least sandals were open to the fresh air.

"Will you two slowpokes please hurry up?" Sam called from outside. "We were supposed to vacate the room half an hour ago."

Adam got to his feet, wobbling a bit and wincing until he found a comfortable position inside the shoes and grabbed the hoodie Sam had loaned him. "I'm coming, I'm coming." He muttered, gingerly walking out the door with Dean following (totally not hovering) behind.

"Let's hit the road."

* * *

><p>It was about ten miles down the road (and halfway through Dean's beloved Black Sabbath album) that Adam spoke up. "So where are we going?" He asked.<p>

Sam almost choked on the water he had been drinking whenever Adam initiated contact. "What?"

Adam rolled his eyes. "I said, where are we going? Back to that dude's house with all the books and the crappy couch? Whatshisname...Bob?"

Dean's hands tightened around the steering wheel. "Bobby. And no, we're not going there."

"Why not?" When neither brother said anything, Adam huffed in annoyance. "Why aren't we going to Bobby's?"

"Because he's dead, okay?" Dean snapped, feeling a twinge of remorse whenever he saw Adam flinch in the rearview mirror...but only a twinge. Bobby was a wound that was still rather fresh. He reached out and turned up the volume as the tape turned over to AC/DC.

The three brothers drove on in silence (except for the blaring of the radio) for a while. Sam leaned his head back wearily and watched the scenery flash by. It had been four nights that Adam had been back with them and Sam had only gotten a full-night's sleep for the first one. Sharing a bed with Dean was awkward (they were no longer little kids and Dean had a tendency to steal the covers) and Adam had yet to get through a night without experiencing increasingly violent and terrible nightmares. And Sam was the only one who could snap him out of it.

Sam's memories of Hell were scrambled at best. In his brain the two timelines of body and soul were jumbled together into one long, dark nightmare that he usually tried to avoid thinking about...and the hallucinations of Lucifer had further left things in a blur of madness.

What Sam did remember, though, was that Adam had been there too.

They had fallen for miles and miles, leaving the physical world behind as they fell. Lucifer and Michael had abandoned their vessels and raced back desperately towards the surface as the mouth of the Cage closed behind them, shutting off the light and leaving nothing but Hell behind. Adam, suddenly aware, screamed in terror and clutched at Sam as they fell through empty space, finally landing in a painful heap at the intangible and yet somehow still physical bottom of Satan's own personal cell. It had been so, so hot...scorching their flesh upon contact...and yet somehow the air was freezing cold as the Devil gave a great shriek of rage above. Then there was pain. Nothing but pain. Flames and knives and claws and teeth and moments of rare respite where the two brothers (despite Adam's original hatred and horror) clung to each other in desperation.

"N...NO!"

"Adam? SHIT!"

Sam jerked roughly out of old memories as the car abruptly swerved with a screech of brakes. "What the hell, Dean?"

"Yeah, exactly." Dean fumbled desperately for the 'eject' button on the cassette player and thumbed towards the backseat. "We've got a problem."

Crap. Sam (using the yoga skills Jess had taught him and bending his spine in ways that should have been impossible) clambered over the backseat and fell onto Adam in a tangle of thrashing limbs and grabbing hands. "ADAM!" He yelled, holding the young man down as he seized. "Adam?"

"Goddammit!" Dean snapped from the backseat, trying to drive and fix the radio and watch his brothers at the same time. "Talk to me, Sammy, what's going on back there?"

"He's seizing."

"Damn. Another flashback?"

"Looks like. What set it off this time?"

Dean looked guilty. "It was my fault." He said, chucking a tape out of the window vindictively. "I screwed up. Guess 'Highway to Hell' was a crappy soundtrack choice, huh."

"Yeeeah. I'd say so." Sam looked back at Adam as his brother jerked one last time and lay still. "Damn it all, Dean. What are we going to do?"

"Same thing we always do...figure it out by the skin of our teeth."

There was a groan and Adam's eyes fluttered open. "Dude." He slurred, shoving weakly at Sam. "Get the hell off me...don't want a kiss."

"Sit still, kid." Dean instructed from the front seat. "We'll be home soon."

* * *

><p>"Adam? Welcome to the Batcave." With a dramatic flourish Dean flipped the switch and let light flood the Men of Letters Bunker.<p>

"Whoa." Despite himself, Adam's eyes widened. "Is this seriously where you guys live?"

"Home sweet home, yup." Dean started down the stairs, still talking. "There's a kitchen and a shooting range and a dungeon (but stay out of there...the occupant's kind of a dick) and about the best shower pressure you'll find this side of paradise. And it's all ours."

"Our grandfather left it to us." Sam said by way of explanation as Adam followed Dean down into the Bunker, Sam close at hand. "If you'll come with me, we can go pick out a bedroom for you while Dean makes us supper and LOOK OUT!"

Adam face-planted into the floor as Sam yanked him down. Spitting out an ancient clod of dried grass (Hadn't those two knuckleheads ever heard of sweeping?) he peered up to see a crossbow dart quivering in the pillar above him.

"Damn it all, Kevin!" Dean exploded, marching over and pulling somebody up by one ear. "Would you stop it with the Katniss Everdeen impersonation? You're going to kill somebody."

'Kevin', a short Asian kid in a red shirt, clutched a crossbow to his chest and glared suspiciously at Adam who promptly scowled back. "Who the hell is he, Dean?" Kevin said, voice pitched a bit squeaky. "You didn't say you were bringing anybody here. Who is it?"

"Would you cool your jets?" No longer hanging on to Kevin's ear, Dean put his hands on his hips and pinned the guy to the place with a look. "I thought you were supposed to be the one with manners around here. Is that how you greet people? With an arrow to the gut?"

"Who is he?"

"He's our brother, Kevin." Sam said (Adam wanted to remind them that he was still in the room and could speak for himself, but kept quiet to watch the drama unfold.)

"You never mentioned having a brother." Damn. Kevin seemed like a paranoid dude. "How do we know he's your brother? What if he's one of those Leviathan things? Or a demon?"

Dean snorted in annoyance. "We tested him, we know it's him, but if it makes you feel better we'll dunk his hand in Borax before we eat supper. Now go put that ridiculous crossbow away and let Adam find a room. Got it?"

Kevin made a face and stood aside to let the brothers slide past him. Adam made sure to give the crazy kid with the crossbow a WIDE berth. He didn't seem to be entirely sane.


	9. Home Sweet Batcave

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* * *

><p>"Adam sat on his new bed in his new room and looked around at the bare walls, massaging the back of his neck. Sam was banging about in the connected bathroom, checking to make sure the water was running, from the sound of it.<p>

"Yup, everything's in order." Sam came out, dusting off his hands. "Just let the shower warm up a bit before you get in...and lemme take a look at your feet. We're home now, so maybe we can leave those bandages off.

"My neck hurts."

"Sam looked at him as he knelt down to check Adam's feet in a position that was eerily reminiscent of the Duke trying the shoe on Cinderella. "It's probably from the way you were flopping around earlier."

Adam flushed and looked away. He did not like being reminded of those moments of weakness. He was a grown-ass man, for God's sake! Nut up, Milligan!

"Stay still and let me look!" Sam said, jerking Adam's pantleg to keep hold of his foot. "You tore those up pretty well."/p  
>"Yeah, I kinda got that whenever the shampoo stung in the cuts."<p>

His brother poked carefully at his big toe (the one Dean had abused in an effort to bring him back to reality) and Adam gritted his teeth. He wouldn't flinch! He wouldn't! It was just Sam, the giant girl, not...anyone else.

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

"They were silent for a moment as Sam unwound the bandages from around the other foot and Adam tried not to make this more awkward than it already was.

"So, Adam, how are you doing?"

Adam tensed and looked at Sam. "What?" Sam just looked at him expectantly and Adam shifted uncomfortably. "I'm fine, I guess. Why?"/p  
>"Well maybe because you just had a full-on seizure in the car on our way here." Sam made an effort to keep his voice understanding (wanting to be kind and not wanting to set his little brother off again) but Adam still went a bit red and looked both ashamed and annoyed. He huffed out a sigh, rolled his eyes, and pulled his foot out of Sam's grasp.<p>

"I'm fine, Sam. Not a big deal."

"Hmmm." Sam caught the foot again. "You know you don't have to be ashamed, Adam." He said.

Adam looked back at his brother. "What the hell?"

"Your nightmares. You don't have to be ashamed of them. Do you think Dean and I never have them?" Narrowed hazel eyes stared at him.

"Seriously?" Adam sounded very prickly, as usual, but Sam felt that he had to say this and set the record straight.

"Yeah, seriously. It doesn't make you weak or anything like that. You're certainly allowed to have nightmares and even flashbacks after what you went through."

"What you two put me through, you mean."

"What?"

The youngest Winchester pulled his foot away (again) and scowled. "You two left me down there for nearly seven years...don't start trying to tell me about ooey-gooey familial love and all that crap. You can tell Dean to go screw himself for me too."

Sam winced and frowned. That had _not _gone according to plan...but he didn't know what to say that wouldn't only make things worse. Adam slid off the bed and shuffled over to the bag of clothes, starting to stuff the old second-hand cast-offs into one of the dresser drawers. Clearly the conversation was over.

"I'll, uh, call you whenever supper's ready, okay?"

"As soon as Sam had left the room, Adam let out a breath and sagged against the cool wood of the dresser. He was so screwed. Now that he was alone (for the first time since his...resurrection) he could feel his heart pounding in his throat and the phantom pain of a thousand injuries throbbing just beneath his skin. The dark, bloody memories of hellfire and torment bubbled just below the surface of his conciousness and, if he concentrated too long on them or was caught off guard by something that called a memory to the forefront, he found himself drowning in the horror and agony of it all. During the day he could usually keep his game face on, but by night the protective barriers he so carefully built up all came crumbling down under the force of the black memories until he screamed out in terror and pain and was broken down into a sobbing little child again.

Hell was created to break body and soul and the archangels, having had nothing better to do, had gotten creative. Sometimes Adam felt like he was choking on the betrayal of his own mind...and every faux worried look his brothers gave him only served to further smother him until he wanted to scream and lash out at anything within range.

They didn't care. Maybe at one time he had thought that they did (ages and ages ago whenever Dean and Sam had actually come to rescue him from Zachariah...before they abandoned him to the tender mercies of an archangel). Adam shivered, feeling a chill go up his spine. Why hadn't he just been allowed to die? Why hadn't the angels just smote him so that his soul no longer existed? Surely that would be better than living on as he was now...holding on to an ever-unravelling thread of sanity that took more and more energy to retain with every hour that passed?

Talking with Sam only made it worse. Dean...he was furious with Dean. Not only could the oldest Winchester be a bit of a dick sometimes, but he was just irritating. But talking with Sam blurred the lines between memory and reality even further, thinning the wall Adam attempted to stuff the ugly memories behind and forcing him to recall the demeaning, dehumanising eons they had spent together in the belly of Hell itself, clinging to each other like frightened children as the Hellhounds bit and clawed and the archangels fought and screamed and laughed and they died together again and again only to awaken again the next day for another session on the Rack (that Sam always took, despite Adam's screams of protest) and another day of unending pain and torture and...NO! He would NOT think about that!

"Nope, no, he was not going to give himself another episode. He was stronger than that. He was not going to give his brothers another excuse to coddle him and treat him like an atomic bomb about to go off. He was messed up, sure, and felt sure that his tenuous grip on reality was slowly slipping...but that was no reason to be the cause of the 'chick-flick moments' that Dean had mentioned the other day. He was out. He was fine (sort of). He was stronger than that. He would make it.

"Maybe...

* * *

><p>"How's he doing?" Dean asked as Sam came into the kitchen, not even looking up from the frozen pizza box he was reading.<p>

"Sam collapsed into a chair, selecting an apple from Dean's latest addition to the Batcave kitchen (a damn fruitbowl of all things) and took a bite. "What are we going to do, Dean?"

"Did he have another flashback-seizure thing?"

"No, no. He's just not talking to me and...God. Was I that moody at 19?"

"I wouldn't know, seeing as how you were at Stanford. But I can confirm that you were definitely a temperamental little bitch at 17, if that counts."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Dean." He said sarcastically. "But I'm serious. What are we going to do about Adam. I mean...wow. You saw him today. That was a full-on seizure. We should have taken him to the ER right there and then."

"And tell them what? We don't know his medical history, his social security number, any allergies to medication, nada. And you know what would happen to him if he started screaming about Lucifer while they scanned him. He'd end up in a psyche ward before you could say Cthulhu!" Dean sighed, preheating the oven. "It's only been three days since he got out of Hell and away from those demonic bitches too, Sammy. Remember that. I certainly wasn't exactly a bucket of laughs whenever I came out...and I didn't even do quality time in the Cage like you two did."

"You know you could tell Adam this instead of recounting it to me." Sam said. "It might help to smooth things over a bit. He told me to tell you to 'go screw yourself' and he sounded pretty pissed. What did you do?"

"The kid's sharp, I'll give him that. Even with centuries of Hell rattling around in his noggin he's probably looking to give your geeky brain a run for its money. Got hold of a newspaper while you were out shopping the other day and figured out that, well, it's been a few years since you two fell down in there."

"Oh crap."

"Yeah. Exactly. That's probably why he's being so difficult."

Sam groaned and let his head fall onto the table with a thunk that left Dean wincing. "We damn well forgot him, Dean." The middle Winchester said, hands tearing through his hair. "How could we do that?"

The oven clicked and Dean tore the pizza package open with his teeth, shoving it in. "Because we're Winchesters and this world will always, ALWAYS screw us over one way or another."

* * *

><p>"Sam? Dean? You out here?" Kevin poked his head around the doorway to where Sam and Dean were making salads to go with the pizza and soda (somehow giving Adam a beer probably wasn't the wisest course to take, even if Dean did think he needed to loosen up a bit).<p>

"What is it, Kev?" Dean wrinkled his nose as he removed a fat slug from the head of lettuce. Why had he let Sam convince him to go organic Farmer's Market again? Oh yeah...because he was trying to get Sammy to eat as much as possible and sleep regularly. If Zeke was going to be able to work properly, then Sam had to do his part.

Kevin came into the kitchen and caught a tiny cucumber as it tried to roll away. "Look." He said. "Sorry about earlier. It's just...you two went MIA and when I heard the door opening and someone new coming in, I panicked."

"Constant vigilance," Dean said, "But next time how about going for the holy water instead of trying to audition for Game of Thrones?"

"Right, yeah, sure. Who is that guy anyway?"

"That guy," Sam said, dicing a tomato that had somehow survived their absence in the crisper drawer and still retained some of its freshness, "That guy is our brother, Adam."

"I didn't know you had another brother. Is he okay? He seemed a bit...unbalanced."

Dean waggled a knife at Kevin. "You leave Adam alone, understand?" He said, voice taking on a stern quality. "He's been through a lot of crap recently and he doesn't need anyone hassling him. And, if you must know, we didn't have a brother for a while before now because he was damn well stuck in Hell. So leave him alone."

Kevin paled slightly and his eyes widened. "H-hell?"

"Yeah. H-E-Double-Hockey-Stick, Hell. Lovely place. Fire, brimstone, saunas that'll fry your face off."

"Adam!" Sam exclaimed as the newcomer to the kitchen interrupted. "Did you get settled?"

Adam rolled his eyes. "Yes, Sam. I put my meagre belongings away and then sat staring at the wall and contemplating the deeper meanings of life for a while before I got tired of navel gazing and decided to come see about supper."

"Are you hungry?"

"No. I just had nothing better to do."

"Are you sure?" Dean asked, knife hovering and gesturing in thin air again. "It's not ready yet, but there's apples." Kevin muttered something about Dean slapping _his _hand whenever he tried to eat right before a meal Dean had cooked. All three brothers ignored him.


	10. I Had A Dream

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* * *

><p>"AAAAA! Noo, p-please, STOP!"<p>

Dean jolted awake, scrambling for the gun under his pillow and rolling off the bed to land in a defensive crouch before the cold touch of the hardwood floor (he REALLY needed to install some carpeting) woke him up fully and he groaned. "Crap. Adam."

It wasn't that being woken up by nightmares (either his own or someone else's) was a new thing. For as long as Dean could remember the night had not only been a blanket of darkness to conceal the deeds of the monsters and the hunters who combated them. No, night was also the time whenever the hunter was most vulnerable as the mind replayed the horrors again and again in their dreams. Suddenly moments that could be compartmentalised and ignored during the light of day became monsters in their own right and attacked with a vengeance as one lay sleeping.

Dean was no stranger to the terrors of night. Bad dreams and paranoia were just part of the job as a hunter. Nobody - not even the most sociopathic of souls - could deal with the freak show for long without being tainted. Dean's nights hadn't been taint-free since the fire that had stolen his mother through death and his father through grief-fuelled obsession.

He himself had suffered from night terrors in the terrible, blurred days after the fire. His young mind hadn't been able to cope with the memories and the fact that Mommy was gone and Daddy was grieving and it had gotten to the point that John had actually gone to Missouri for a set of worry dolls to put under Dean's pillow to help him sleep. It had worked (he never dreamed about the fire again, though the memories of the heat and the weight of Sam in his arms would stay with him forever) but that was only the beginning of Dean's relationship with nightmares.

Some of his earliest memories after the fire were of waking up to the sound of John (back whenever he was still Daddy) crying for Mary in his sleep. It would happen every couple of nights...John would come home from a day of meetings with legal people and pick them up from Missouri's and then they would go home and eat dinner before John put them to bed and drank himself to sleep. Then the nightmares would start and, before long, Dean would find he and Sam being swept up into a tight hug that smelled of whiskey and sweat as his father clung to them desperately and choked back tears before they all fell asleep in an exhausted, grief-stricken knot in one bed. This was before John turned into their drill sergeant; before hugs were considered a show of weakness and replaced with 'manly' slaps on the back or a scratchy kiss on the forehead goodnight became an admonition about running in the morning.

First it had been John, then Sammy started to grow up and the cycle started all over again.

Ever since he was a kid Sam had been a lousy sleeper, often plagued by bad dreams and insomnia that had only intensified since that awful Christmas where he had found John's journal and had his innocence forever stolen away by the supernatural. That was the year that John began to fashion his boys into weapons for his war. That was the year that their training began in earnest. That was the year it became about hand-to-hand combat, knife-throwing, tracking, lock-picking, stealing, fraud, and every other aspect of hunting life that had before been restricted to handling a shotgun and checking salt lines. The nights that Sam cried himself to sleep because of a brutal workout session that strained his growing body and yet was never good enough to warrant even a scrap of approval from John still made Dean sick to his stomach. Not that he had been witness to very many of them (for all he teased Sam about being girly, the kid was a regular clam whenever it came to showing 'weakness') but they had shared a room - and sometimes a bed - enough times for him to be well acquainted with Sam's sleeping habits...which included kicking, clinging, farting, talking, and waking up with a choked-back cry and staying awake for hours.

Honestly the only time Dean could remember this pattern not happening was the four years where Sam was at Stanford and he was hunting solo most of the time. But even then the relative silence and loneliness of riding in the Impala alone or sleeping by himself in an empty motel room only gave his own demons an opportunity to crawl out of the woodwork. So he hunted to fill up the emptiness and to tire himself out enough to sleep and just for the pleasure of a job well done. He worked with Caleb and with Joshua and even sometimes with John...though never with Bobby. Not after the terrible fight where Bobby found out that John had kicked Sam out of the family for the audacity of going to school and threatened to fill the man full of buckshot if he ever showed his face around Singer Salvage again. Dean hadn't been sure if that warning applied to him (as he wasn't the one Bobby had aimed the curses at) but he wasn't eager to find out either. He also stalked Sam at Stanford, making sure that his brother was healthy and protected. They had stayed in contact for some of the time, but after Dean had made the mistake of drunk-calling Sam the Christmas of Sam's Sophomore year and saying a few things that he couldn't remember but must have been pretty cruel, they didn't speak again until he broke into Sam's apartment with his concerns about John going MIA.

And that was where their life started the long highway down to Hell as the hits began coming harder and faster with no moments to breath and sleep became a luxury instead of a necessity.

After Sam was back on the road with Dean again he spent more time chugging coffee than he did sleeping, growing more sluggish and pale by the day until Dean finally threatened to knock him out if he didn't sleep because he was becoming a liability on the hunt. He was grieving for Jessica and filled up with more self-loathing than Dean knew how to deal with (even Dean's off-colour jokes failed to snap him out of it) and was slowly trying to kill himself. Barely a night passed where he wasn't waking up with Jess' name on his lips and then refusing to go back to sleep, even though he nodded off nearly constantly and could barely function. He hadn't really slept well since and Dean himself had never been the same since his trip to Hell and, more recently, Purgatory. They were Winchesters...mercy didn't apply to them.

But now they had Adam - the brother born in secret and 'protected' through innocence until that ignorance got him killed as the Winchester curse struck again. He had lived 19 years completely oblivious to the world of the supernatural, thanks to John, and then he had been eaten by ghouls and thrust into the world of demons, angels, and Hell itself...a world that left scars on the soul. The greatest monsters in the world are the ones that exist within your own mind because they are the ones that know the chinks in your armour and the times when you are the more vulnerable to attack. And, as if watching his father lose himself to obsession and his brother be beaten down by nightmares and hallucinations and guilt wasn't enough, now Dean had to listen to yet another member of his broken little family scream and plead and be broken again and again by memories of Hell itself.

Adam had stopped screaming and Dean closed his eyes wearily. Why? Why could none of them never be given a break? Why did they have to work so hard and sacrifice so much only to have it all thrown back in their faces?

Someone padded past Dean's door - too unstealthy to be Crowley escaping and too light to be Sam - and Dean sighed, figuring that it must be Kevin, awoken by the screams and roaming about. He really needed to have a talk with their prophet soon.

He knew that in the week since they had brought Adam back to the Bunker Kevin was feeling awkward and left out. He and Adam really hadn't hit if off on the right foot (something that only got worse with every nightmare or flashback Adam had...he didn't even really appreciate _Sam and Dean_ witnessing them, let alone Kevin) and more often than not he had been sidelined or pushed aside entirely by the Winchester family circle that was more obvious now that they had Adam to make the duo three...uncooperative as he was.

Yeah. Dean would have to speak to Kevin.

But that could wait for morning...he was EXHAUSTED! Every. Single. Night. Every night had been interrupted by the screams and sobs and broken pleading of Adam as he battled the memories that assailed him in his dreams. At first Dean had tried to force Sam to stay in bed and let him deal with the kid, but it was obvious that Sam was the only one who could do anything with Adam. It was a bad situation. Sam was exhausted, Dean was exhausted, and Adam was exhausted too, seeming to lose grip with reality a little more with each day. Honestly Dean didn't know how they were all going to keep on going. He kind of missed the kid that glared at them and snarked over everything and who actually might get through a day without something seemingly innocuous setting him into a flashback.

It was like they were back on the Sam-Hallucifer crazy train...except Adam seemed quite content to, in his moments of coherency, pretend that nothing was wrong and they were all just overreacting. Dean supposed that he couldn't begrudge the kid that (it was a family trait, after all) but it was just getting exhausting to deal with his rage and fits and it was driving them all a little mad. Not even Zeke was able to help and staunchly refused to come out aside from one time when he had admonished Dean for endangering Sam's health and the work Zeke was doing by neglecting Sam's need to rest and eat as well. Dean had only managed to hold himself back from punching the angel due to the fact that he didn't want to leave a bruise on Sam's jaw.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Eighth day of Summerlethe, Oz, Faerie<strong>_

_**Dear**** Sam and Dean,**_

_**What's up, bitches? Something good, I hope. I know you two won't get the chance to read this until I get back or I invent a cross-dimensional postal service (hey...a girl can dream), but I just want you to know that I'm thinking of my two favourite guys. Miss you very much and I've got loads to tell you.**_

_**Oz is absolutely AMAZING! It's got Munchkins and porcelain people and fields of magic poppies and a yellow brick road that leads to the Emerald City and even a few of those nasty Wheeler things from 'Return to Oz'! The good witch of the South, Glinda, is also real. She's the leader of the resistance that Dorothy and I are helping out and she freaking KICKS ASS! **_

_**Did you know that Oz is actually one of the four kingdoms in the fae realm? (Of course you did, silly me, Dorothy told you too.) There's Seelie - the Kingdom of Air, Elfland - the Kingdom of Fire, Avalon (SQUEE!) - the Kingdom of Water, and Oz - the Kingdom of Earth. I think I'm in HEAVEN!**_

_**Actually, no I don't. Because I've been to Heaven and it looked like my last Christmas with Mom and Dad. We need to have a talk about that too because, contrary to what Dorothy joked about, it's not normal even for hunters to die and come back lickety split (or at all). Don't think that just because I'm in another dimension that you're off the hook, Dean Winchester!**_

_**Anyway...I met up with Gilda again too (and this time there were no meddling muggles to interfere) and she came over from Seelie as an ambassador to help Dorothy and me. The purging Oz of evil gig is going better than we could have dreamed it would. Whenever word got out that I had killed the Wicked Witch morale among the rebel troops improved vastly (I got a thank-you kiss from Glinda) and I was even able to lead them in a rousing chorus of Do You Hear The People Sing? before we headed off to clean out a majorly, strategically important nest of flying monkeys. It's totally their official anthem now.**_

_**Yup, that's me; infecting the universe with my fandoms one dimension at a time!**_

_**I have no regrets.**_

_**But, fun as it is to fight evil winged monkeys and educate Winkies about Broadway, I do miss my crazy big bros a bunch. Gilda and Dorothy are good friends, but they're no Sam and Dean Winchester. You two had better be keeping each other out of trouble while I'm gone. If I come back to find you two arguing and being idiots, I WILL put some of my new-and-improved kick-ass fighting moves to good use...understand? And don't give me that bitchy look. I've read your history, remember? I know I left y'all at kind of a bonkers time (Did the angel info ever download onto my tablet, Sam? Hope so...and if you've been reading my fanfiction, I will kill you) and that I definitely left you hanging (Sorry about that...and sorry again about the kick to the groin, Dean) but I'll make it up to you whenever I come back. PROMISE.**_

_**Sam, you'd better be eating and sleeping and not getting strangled more than usual and damn well doing everything Dean tells you to do to get better. That was way too freaking close and we can't lose you. Just concentrate on getting all healthy again so we can geek out, okay?**_

_**Dean, you'd better be taking care of Sam (and Dorothy's bike. She says she'll hobble you if you haven't been) and looking after yourself too. No drinking before noon and no suicidal plans, got it? Sam and I can't do without you.**_

_**I'm hoping to maybe come back for a visit soon. We've almost got those monkeys and Wheelers disposed of, but it'll still be a while before all is stable politically again. It's not like you rescue Princess Peach and the game is over cute and tidy. But I do want to come home for dinner or something soon and check in with you. It's been a few months here in the fae realm...how long as it been for you guys?**_

_**Anyway, gotta go. Gilda's taking me to watch the Ladies of the Lake dance for the Summer Solstice tonight, so I can't be late.**_

_**Love you loads,**_

_**Charlie**_

* * *

><p>"Damn. There's nothing to eat." Dean surveyed the bare cupboards and fridge morosely. Even Sam's vanilla-coconut yoghurt was gone!<p>

Well...not quite true. There was some bacon and alarmingly outdated broccoli-cheese dip. But cooking meat set Adam to puking (at best) and the dip would probably make the rest of them hurl (Dean was sure it was one step from being sentient) so there was literally nothing to eat.

Sam and Adam were closeted away in the library doing geeky college-boy things (Adam was having a relatively good day) so Dean talked the Prophet of the Lord, Kevin Tran, into making a run into town with a lengthy shopping list. He would have gone himself, but there was a message on his phone from Garth about some taxidermist's untimely death that he needed to deal with asap. So he gave Kevin the shopping list along with a wad of cash and a silver boot knife and told the kid where to find the best prices on organic apples for Sammy.

"You want a fifth of whiskey and...three six-packs of beer?!" Kevin said incredulously. Dean sighed...clearly the guy was still a newcomer to the Winchester world.

"Here. Take this." He dug into the old cigar box and shoved a card at Kevin. "You'l need ID if you're going to get us booze."

Kevin looked at the rough card. "Do you really think they'll accept this?"

"Sure. I made it! Why wouldn't they?"

"Well for starters it says that my gender is female."

Dean grinned. "It's a free country. They'll respect your life choices."

"And secondly it has the name 'Kevin Solo' on it. Kevin Solo? Seriously? Are you TRYING to get me arrested?!"

"Would you rather I had put 'Kevin _Sulu_?"

"Hell no!" Kevin grumbled and started towards the garage. "Can I at least take the Impala?"

Dean pointed a spoon threateningly. "You're not driving my Baby." He said. "Take the jeep instead."

"Does that even start?"

"It better, 'cause that's what you're driving."

Kevin shot him a dark look. "Grumpy grouch." He muttered rebelliously as a parting shot and shuffled off to the garage, snagging the keys to the jeep Dean had rescued from a scrap yard about a week before the whole Stull Cemetery incident.


	11. Once Upon A Time

.

* * *

><p>"Eat up, Adam." Dean flopped a couple of scrambled eggs on a plate and shoved it (along with the ketchup) in front of his youngest brother.<p>

Adam blinked blearily at it through red-rimmed, tired eyes and mumbled something unintelligible. He made no move to pick up his fork and just sat there slumped in his chair, utterly checked out. Dean frowned.

"Earth to Adam! Come in, Adam!"

There was a hissing groan from the youngest Winchester who dug the palm of his hand into his left eye. "Shuttup." He slurred, leaning forward on his elbows.

"No can do, bro. I slaved over those eggs and you're going to eat 'em before they get cold and congealed."

"'M not hungry."

"Too bad. If you want to keep that muscle you insist that you have, then I suggest you start eating what I put in front of you." Dean poked Adam in the ribs and the kid wriggled away in protest, almost falling off his chair.

"Stoppit!"

"Then shut up and eat." Dean turned back to the counter and set about starting up for the coffee whenever Sam finally stumbled out of his room and attempted to interact with society. Sam had actually never been a morning person (neither of them were) but more often than not he had risen early either because he wanted to get John's daily quota of running in before the day grew hot or because nightmares and research left little time or desire to sleep in.

Now, though, Dean was certain that Zeke was knocking Sam out for the physician-recommended eight hours a night because, aside from the times when he actually woke up to Adam's screams, he was pretty much dead to the world. Unlike Adam who had taken to wandering the Bunker by night, more often than not collapsing on the couch in an exhausted heap just before dawn...a habit that was starting to take its toll.

Dean sighed. It was Sam post-Wall all over again. Was there no end to this hamster wheel?

Adam sighed, rubbing at his eyes again and poking disinterestedly at his eggs with a fork. Kevin shuffled into the kitchen, got a poptart and a glass of soy milk, and shuffled back out again...presumably to resume his task of working at the Angel Tablet. Adam poked at his eggs some more and scratched his chin. Dean coughed pointedly. Adam ignored him. The coffee brewed and the toast popped. Kevin returned for a banana. Sam, seemingly drawn out by the smell of coffee, stumbled into the kitchen still in his nightclothes and with his hair standing up like it belonged on some of the ghosts they hunted.

"Morning, Sammy!"

Sam took a deep swig of coffee and stole Dean's toast. "Hey." He said, sticking his head in the fridge and coming back with a yoghurt.

Dean stole a dollop on one finger and helped himself to some eggs. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, good. Great actually. Might go for a run, actually."

"Yeah, well, exercising is all well and good...but take it easy, okay? You're still on the mend."

There was an eye-roll from Sam as he flopped down at the kitchen table with his breakfast. "I feel fine, Dean."

Typical little brother. Dean turned his sights to his other little brother who was still attempting to turn his eggs into a merry-go-round by stirring them around and around on his plate. "If you don't eat those eggs, Adam, I think they're going to try to stage a coup."

Adam grimaced and speared a forkful of the fluffy eggs on his fork, stuffing it into his mouth reluctantly. He instantly went green and spat them back out, shrinking back and shuddering, scrubbing at his mouth with one shaking hand...eyes a million miles away.

Dean cursed. And this morning had been going so well too!

"Adam? What is it?" Sam asked quietly.

"N-nothing." He stuttered, visibly locking himself down and forcing himself to un-curl.

"Didn't look like nothing to me." Dean snorted. "I TOLD you those would be nasty if you let them get too cold."

"T-they tasted like old, mouldy brains for a moment there."

Sam winced and Dean glared. If it had been anyone else Dean would have taken offence at that rather negatively descriptive reference to his cooking abilities...but by this point he was more than well acquainted with what one of Adam's triggers or flashbacks looked like and, going by what he knew personally about Hell, it wouldn't surprise him if at some point Adam had been made to consume either his own brain or someone else's. Damn. That meant eggs were again off the menu of things that Adam could - at this point - eat without gagging. How long had it taken he and Sam to get over their triggers again?

"Would you like some yoghurt or something, Adam?" Sam offered, swiping the offending plate and dumping it into the sink.

"Nah. I'm gonna...I'm gonna just go and watch Kevin stare at the God Rock for a while."

"Uh-huh...nope, kiddo, sorry. Not today." Dean poured a glass of orange juice and shoved it at Adam who took a gulp that he swished around in his mouth for a moment, glaring at Dean.

"Why not?"

"Because we are going out and I don't want you fainting like a girl because you didn't eat damn breakfast."

Both Sam and Adam stared at him. "We're going out?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Well for starters we've been cooped up in here climbing the walls for a week," Dean ignored Sam's pointed mutter of _"You mean YOU have been." _with practised ease, "And secondly I promised Charlie that before the month was over we'd go rescue her stuff from her apartment in Columbus."

"Who's Charlie?"

"A friend." Sam told Adam absently. "But, Dean, do you really think that's wise?"

"We need to get her stuff and we'll get some fresh air...do us all good."

"Well." Adam snatched up Sam's piece of toast and got to his feet. "I'll just, uh, let you two figure out the logistics of this 'family road trip'." He made quotations with his fingers and walked out of the room.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Sam turned on Dean. "What the hell, dude?" He demanded, gesturing with his yoghurt spoon. "What are you thinking?"

"That we need to get Charlie's stuff before her landlord sells it and that today might be a good day to do so?"

"Oh you think?" Crap. Sarcastic Sammy was out in full force. "What are we going to do about Mr. Mouldy Brains there? That was almost a full-on flashback, Dean. They're getting worse instead of getting better...and don't tell me you've forgotten about the writing we've found everywhere in the past couple of days. He scratched it into his wall with his _fingernails_! Do you really think a trip the whole way to Columbus and back just to pick up Charlie's Darth Vader throw pillow is wise right now? We should be concentrating on getting him to talk and to help him."

"And we will, believe me when I say that I'm just as worried about him as you are. But just sitting around here and letting his brain rot away is definitely not the way to go. What did we do whenever we got out of Hell?"

"Hunted until we crashed and burnt?"

"Exactly."

"And you honestly think that's the best way to go about it?"

"Worked for us."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, right." He said with a roll of his eyes. "You're not even letting Adam drink himself to sleep at night like we did. He's not doing well."

"You think I don't know that? Hell...it's not easy to listen to him scream at night and to know full-well what happens downstairs. But I'm doing the best I can, Sammy, and I honestly think that getting the kid out of here for a while will do him good. You know he and Kevin aren't exactly getting on."

That was the understatement of the century. "Yeah, I know. Just...what if he has a freak-out on the road?"

"Then you'll work your super-awesome big brother magic and snap him out of it while I keep us from crashing." Dean looked at Sam. "Hey, maybe it isn't the perfect plan, but I need your help if we're going to get the stuff done in a day and we can't very well leave Adam and Kevin alone here."

"Fine."

* * *

><p>"Okay, Kevin, you know the drill...keep everything on lock-down, don't touch my Jack, and don't let anyone in unless you Christo them first."<p>

"Yeah, yeah. I know." The prophet didn't even look up from his tablet. "Did you know that _It's A Wonderful Life _might not have been so off with its 'Angel, Second-Class' talk?"

"Tell us later, dude." Sam and Adam were already out at the car so Dean clapped Kevin on the back. "No booze and babes parties while we're gone, okay?" Kevin rolled his eyes and Dean grinned. "Yeah, I know you know. See you in a couple days."

"See you."

* * *

><p>"Adam? Dean's on the phone, he's stopping by McDonald's. Do you think you want a snack-wrap or something?"<p>

"You mean 'do you think you can stomach chicken?' don't you?" Adam glanced up at Sam who was hovering by the door with phone clenched against his ear. "Yeah, sure. I'll be fine."

"Sure?"

"Stop coddling me. Yes I'm sure."

Sam eyeballed him for a moment before nodding. "Dean? You still there? Yeah...Adam says that a wrap sounds pretty good. Just get me a salad would you and...shut up."

Adam rolled his eyes and looked back at the phonebook he was reading (hey...there was nothing better to do and his brothers had confiscated even the Gideon Bible before he could read it), blocking out the one-sided argument Sam was making about Dean's eating habits. He had a headache from sitting in the car with Dean's music (no AC/DC, but lots of Styx) blaring for hours. He was also weary of his brothers looking at him like he was a bomb about to go off.

Granted he sometimes felt like a ticking time bomb (what with the hellfire that now always hovered just on the outsides of his vision) but he wasn't a little kid and they didn't have to treat him that way!

Sam finally talked Dean out of the supersized chicken McNugget bucket by conceding to Dean bringing back McFlurries for them all (Dean didn't have to argue TOO hard) and glanced over to see Adam intently scribbling something on the phonebook. "Hey, dude. What're you doing?"

"Nothing." Adam jumped slightly and tried to erase the writing, cursing whenever he realised that it was in pen and slamming the phonebook shut.

"Didn't look like nothing to me. Did you find something interesting in there?"

"Nah, nope. I was just bored." Adam shoved the phonebook back into the drawer. "I'm going to take a leak before Dean gets back with the food...DON'T follow me!"

Sam stared at him. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"You hover worse than...than a hovering thing-y."

"Eloquent."

As soon as the bathroom door closed behind Adam, Sam slipped over to the dresser next to Adam's cot and pulled out the phonebook, flipping through the pages to see what Adam had been scribbling.

_Once upon a time there were three brothers_

_Once upon a time there were three brothers_

_Once upon a time there were three brothers,_

Sam frowned. He and Dean had both been finding scraps of paper with this phrase all over the Bunker for a couple days now (not to mention the infamous incident where Adam had scratched something resembling it into the wall with his _fingernails_) and they had yet to be able to find out what it meant. Sam himself was pretty sure it was a Harry Potter quote, but that still didn't explain why Adam seemed compelled to write it over and over and over again.

* * *

><p>"Dean would you hurry up with picking that lock already? I don't like the way that guy over there is staring at us."<p>

"Just...one...second." Dean grunted, tongue between his teeth. "It's not my fault Charlie didn't give us the keys."

Adam and Sam fidgeted behind him as he jimmied the lock picks and finally put his shoulder to the door and pushed inwards, bursting into the dusty apartment with a sigh of relief.

"Wow. This Charlie person really knows how to pick living quarters." Adam said. "Did she learn about skeevy dives from you two?"

"How'd you know Charlie's a girl...we never told you that?"

Adam snorted and gave a pointed look towards the pair of lacy unmentionables draped over the back of one of the chairs. "Dude, seriously? How do you miss that?"

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Oh gross. Sam, dude, do us all a favour and chuck 'em out the window or something?"

"What?" Sam's voice cracked. "No! I'm not touching them! You do it!"

"No way, nuh-uh!"

"Well you're the one who wanted them out of sight!"

"Yeah. I asked you to do it!"

"And I said no, you do it!"

"You do it!"

"Why should I?"

"Because you're the youngest."

Adam cleared his throat rather loudly at that and stalked over to the chair. "God, guys, you'd think you'd never seen a girl's bra before." He picked up the item in question and brushed off the dust, walking over to the trash can and dropping it in. "What are you, a 12-year-old virgin?" His brothers stared at him, gobsmacked, and he rolled his eyes at their squicked expressions. Honestly! Was he the most mature one here? (Well, he supposed he technically _was _the oldest and...no. NO. He was NOT going to go there!) "So are we going to haul all this stuff out to the car or not?"

Dean shook himself. "Right. Sam and I'll handle the boxes and stuff. You, squirt, are officially on clothes duty. I never want to get that up-close-and-personal to Charlie's lingerie ever again." He still looked a bit disgusted, something Adam found very out-of-character for the brother who leered at everything from coffee waitresses to banana cream pie.

This Charlie must be something else...

* * *

><p><strong>Please do review. Reviews are like pie for Dean and big brother hugs for Sam and Adam...and God knows they need 'em!<strong>


	12. A Pressure Keg

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* * *

><p><em>Dark. Cold. Lonely. Scarring. Pain. Anger. Fear. Torment. Neverending cycle. Running. Screaming. The clash of swords and wings above. Enochian curses. Scraps of tainted Grace falling like burning rain. Eternal damnation. Hell.<em>

_The promise of agony. The tortures that grew more inventive and mind-twisting by the century. The rack. The knives. The claws. The meathooks. The flames. Eternal damnation. Hell._

_Nothing. Everything. Too much. Not enough. Cold hands everywhere. Poisonous whispers gently promising unspeakable pain. Freezing fingers combing tenderly through tangled hair, pulling it out strand by strand. Fire everywhere, licking away at body and soul. Burning. Burning! BURNING!_

Adam's eyes opened and he sat up with a gasp, clutching at his chest where only a moment before it had seemed to be on fire and trying to slow the galloping racing of his heart. "Only a dream." He muttered, taking deep breaths. "You're fine. You're out. You're safe. Stop being such a baby. Just relax. Sam and Dean are down the hall. You're out."

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, sitting on the toilet seat and swallowing back the bile in an attempt to calm his churning stomach. "Only a dream. Only a dream."

Maybe if he repeated that enough he could come to believe it.

_Only a dream. Only a dream. The fire was only a dream. Not real. Not real. This is real. Breath. You're out. You're not burning. Fire. Fire. Flames. Fire. Pain. Burning. Once upon a time there were three brothers. Once upon a time there were three brothers. Once upon a time there were..._

"NO!" Adam lurched forward and clenched his hands around his knees as he gagged, choking on his breath while he wrestled with the demons that his brothers could never hunt and gank: the demons inside of his head.

They were only growing with strength and power as the days and nights passed and his own will was eroded away by horrific memories and exhaustion. Something had to change and soon.

As soon as Adam's breathing slowed down to the point where it was no longer attempting to force his heart right out of his ribs and into his throat (which he did indeed know what that felt like) he got shakily to his feet and ran some cold water in the sink, washing the itchy tear-tracks from his face and taking slow, calming breaths.

Clutching the chilly porcelain of the sink basin and leaning on both hands for support, Adam stared blankly at his reflection in the mirror. When was the last time he had looked, really looked at himself? At Bobby's whenever Dean shoved him into the shower and told him to clean the grave filth from himself? In 'the green room' going through the looking glass and seeing Michael stare out from his eyes? Before this whole nightmare began whenever he was shaving in his dorm room just before the call came that his mother had gone missing? He had never considered himself particularly vain before, but when _was _the last time he had really taken a good look at himself?

On the surface at least he didn't look so very different from the naive, stupid kid who had taken off for college - determined to become a doctor and provide for his mother and make her proud. The face that stared back at him now was still young and fairly smooth, just as it had been all those years ago. A little thinner and paler, perhaps (he hadn't exactly had chance to take care of himself for the past few centuries) and definitely worn and exhausted, but all-in-all he just looked like he was getting over the mother-of-all stomach flu's rather than returning from the torments of Hell. There was no evidence of the surface of the now-near-constant horror show that was the dark labyrinths of his mind.

Except for his eyes. Those looked every bit as old and broken as he felt and Adam shuddered, looking away. If he stared long enough he was sure he could see the flames reflected therein.

Something had to happen. Something had to change. He didn't know how much longer he could keep on going like this.

* * *

><p>Several hours later found Adam sitting at a table in the library massaging his temples and squinting through a headache at a totally safe and non-threatening book on the magical properties of sheep wool. Much as he complained at his brothers for being such smother mother hens and refusing to let him even watch something as seemingly innocuous as Yosemite Sam for fear a Hell reference would come up, he had to admit that they had a point. The flashbacks were getting worse and it was becoming increasingly hard for him to tell reality from hallucination. He was dealing with it (sort of) but there was little point in making everything worse. Some days he could deal with the profanity-littered dialogue that came from both of his brothers on a regular basis and other days the constant mentions of the word 'hell' would leave him digging his nails into his palm in an effort to keep himself grounded. He could never tell which kind of day it was going to be.<p>

God. He needed coffee. His brothers wouldn't let him have any booze...but at least he could OD on caffeine and have a bit of chemical clarity.

Much to Adam's disgust, though, he found that the kitchen wasn't unoccupied.

Kevin Tran had been having a crappy week. No, scratch that, he had been having a crappy couple of years. He had just been a over-achieving AP student trying to get a perfect score and a scholarship from Princeton. He hadn't asked for a cosmic bolt of lighting to hit him in the chest a la The Flash and leave him resonating with the Word of God, indirectly leading to the death of his girlfriend, loss of his mother, and sending his life right down the crapper and into Hell. He had lost a finger to the King of Hell and had spent more time being driven out of his mind by paranoia and stress than he had spent being sane. He was a mess.

Then Sam and Dean had brought their 'brother' home and, well, Kevin just didn't know what to think any more. He had been shocked to learn that supposedly the guy had spent the past couple of years trapped in Hell and, quite frankly, if Adam really was Sam and Dean's brother than that little tidbit didn't surprise him all that much now that he thought about it (Winchesters were certifiably insane) but good God was the guy annoying!

Usually Kevin made a point of staying out of his way (the three brothers were clearly having family bonding time over puking and seizures) but despite all of his efforts he was getting some seriously unfriendly vibes from the new youngest Winchester.

Needless to say whenever his quiet time with a mug of microwave hot chocolate was interrupted by Winchester Jr. shuffling into the kitchen and banging about with the coffee fixings, Kevin couldn't help his features twisting into a scowl.

Adam could feel the disgruntled stare boring into his back and rolled his eyes. What exactly had he done to piss that nervous little prophet off so badly? All he'd ever done was show up...Kevin was the one who tried to take his head off with a damn crossbow and then kept hanging around awkwardly every time Adam just wanted to have a Hell flashback in peace, Goddammit! He pulled the creamer out of the fridge as the coffee maker dinged and slammed the door shut. Kevin jumped.

"Would you mind not doing that?"

"I'm sorry...did you say something?" Adam smiled as sweetly as he could with his headache and poured a generous serving into his mug, stirring it vigorously with a spork.

"Yeah I did, cod brain." Kevin tore a bagel apart viscously and dunked it into his drink.

"Huh. Could have fooled me. I thought it was a fly buzzing or something."

There was a black glare from Kevin that WOULD have been more interesting if Adam hadn't spent several centuries facing up to the Devil and his hot-tempered older brother. As it was, Adam just thought the glare made Kevin look like he was about to pass gas. And he said so too.

"You know what?" Kevin said, slamming the remains of his bagel down on the table. "Screw you!"

"I'd rather you didn't. I am just fresh out of...downstairs and all that, but even I still have standards."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Adam took a deliberately sedate sip of coffee. "It means that, sorry to devastate you, but I'm just not into dudes."

"What?!" Kevin choked. "What the hell?"

If he was honest with himself, Adam had no idea where that came from. He was just mad as hell (all the puns in the world intended), tired, grouchy, sore, and damn well sick of being a crazy-train-riding invalid that everyone tiptoed around. He was tired of Lucifer and Michael dancing the macarena around in his mind every night and he was sick of not being able to sleep more than a couple hours at a time without waking up with a scream in the back of his throat.

And, above all, he was tired of Kevin hanging around. Who was the punk anyway? Sure Sam said he was some kind of prophet, but did Moses Jr. really have to stay here in the Bunker? It was bad enough that Sam and Dean were witness to the flashbacks...but Kevin too? Ugh!

Adam whistled an off-key rendition of 'Dust in the Wind' through his teeth as he set about making some toast. His headache was abating a bit and...he actually felt rather invigorated. Maybe a bit of manly bickering was just what he needed to work some of the kinks out. The memories of Hell were just too much to deal with and so he reacted in the only way he knew how: shielding sarcasm and witty anger.

Kevin glared as Adam flipped the toast onto the plate and took a noisy bite. "Could you not?"

"Could I not what?"

"Not do that!" Kevin waved an inarticulate hand at the mess Adam was making of the toast. Adam didn't really care.

"I don't follow."

There was audible noise as Kevin ground his teeth. "Just knock it off."

Adam shrugged and resumed his whistling as he took a look inside the fridge. Hmmm. Maybe he could stomach some marmalade today? He nicked the spork out of his coffee and licked it clean before going in search of the orange marmalade. There was a clatter as he shoved a jar of pickles to the side and then a boom from behind him. He jumped, whacking his head on the fridge door, and wheeled around with his marmalade-covered spork.

Kevin was practically shaking with anger (when had things escalated so quickly?) and brandishing his half-eaten bagel like a sword. "Dude, I have had it up to HERE," He held his free hand up over his head for emphasis...Adam felt a bit smug that he was taller than his adversary, "with your bullshit. What is your problem?"

"Who said I have a problem?"

"The lamp you broke while foaming at the mouth and mumbling about Satan singing 'All That Jazz' does."

Whoa. That was below the belt. Adam felt the heat rise up in his face and he immediately lost any smug good feeling that getting the upper hand for once had given him. He was tired, dammit, and he didn't ask Kevin to stick around for his little episodes. "That's none of your damn business, dude."

"It is whenever you wake me up at all hours of the night screaming your ass off."

"Oh shut up. What do you know?"

"I know that you're being a jerk and that if I have to listen to you lick, slurp from, or tap things with that damn spork again I'm going to shoot myself in the damn head."

"What a pity." Adam couldn't keep the sneer out of his voice and, while he could honestly say he didn't exactly want Kevin dead, he felt that if the prophet was going to go about hitting below the belt than he was more than entitled to return the favour.

"Look. I don't know what your issue is with me, and I sure as hell am not exactly your greatest fan, but just stay out of my way and stop being such a dick, why don't you? Do you think that just because you've been to Hell or whatever that it gives you a right to expect everyone to just put up with your crap day after day? Hell no!"

"I'm not an idiot, I do know that. It's not MY fault Sam and Dean _are _idiots."

"You're not the only one around here with problems, y'know." Kevin threw his mug into the sink with a clatter. Adam was sure there was now a chip on the handle but, in light of Kevin's comments, that observation was pushed from his mind.

"And just what would you know about my problems?"

"Aside from what you scream and mumble before Sam or Dean throw me out of the room? Nothing. And I prefer it that way...Winchester seems to be contagious. But, like I said, you're not the only one with issues."

"Oh? Like _what_?"

That seemed to tip Kevin right over the edge and Adam felt like he might feel a bit of remorse if he wasn't currently so invaded and achy. "MY MOTHER IS DEAD!" Kevin yelled.

"Well boo-friggaty-hoo, pity for you!" Adam sneered, pausing to stir his now-cold coffee with a vengeance. "At least you didn't have to watch your mother get eaten in front of you, be eaten by something wearing your mother's face, and then be told by a freakin' ANGEL that he was planning on feeling her soul up if you didn't behave. Trust me, pal, you'd better shut up and scuttle back to your God Rock or whatever."

Adam was vaguely aware of Kevin leaping at him then and of his fending the enraged prophet off with his spork. He was also vaguely aware that this whole thing was stupid and ridiculous and that he should be laughing his ass off in a corner somewhere over it rather than trying to get Kevin in a headlock. But he did none of those things and the two boys went down in a tangle of pointy elbows, curses, and that damn spork that had started it all somehow. It was sheer confusion for a few minutes (Adam might have bit Kevin on the wrist) until Sam and Dean finally were awake and standing utterly nonplussed in the doorway, gaping.

"HEY HEY HEY!" Dean bellowed, striding past Sam into the kitchen and pulling Kevin and Adam apart by the scruffs of their necks. "What the HELL is going on here? And if one of you says 'He stole my cookie', so help me I will kick both of your asses into next week!"

"He started it."

"Shut up."

* * *

><p>"So. You want to tell us what that was all about?"<p>

Kevin scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling like a little kid again for the first time in a long time.

Adam and Kevin were seated on a couch as far away from each other as possible. Sam and Dean were both seated on chairs watching them. It felt eerily like a scolding from the Hunter Odd Parents...or the world's strangest intervention.

"No answers?"

Kevin and Adam said nothing, studiously avoiding look at each other, so at last when the silence had stretched out past awkward and back again, Dean spoke up.

"Fine, fine. I don't really want to know why I found you two wrestling in _my kitchen _over a damn spork, but this stops now. I've been noticing the intense UST you two have been exchanging recently, but let me say that violence is never the way to solve these problems."

Sam kicked Dean's shin. "Shut up." He said disapprovingly. "It's not a joke. This wasn't some stupid wrestling match over the remote or holy water or whatever, guys. When I came in you were gnawing on Kevin's wrist, Adam. And Kevin...what the hell, dude? Since when are you an advocate for shanking people with cutlery?"

There was a muffled cough from Dean. "'Scuse me,sorry." He grunted, clearing his throat. "But we're serious. In this job, this life that we're all stuck in, you really can't afford to be fighting with each other. If you can't have each others' backs then you're going to end up dead either from a monster or because your former buddies stabbed you in the back. And maybe you two don't think that it would ever go that far. Maybe you don't think it's all that important because we're not hunting right now. But this can mean the difference between life and death."

"Trust us." Sam said. "The world can end all for the sake of an argument."

Adam shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't been scolded like this in years! "What are you going to do, have us kiss and make up?"

"You watch your tone, young man!" All trace of amusement was gone from Dean's voice and he sounded stern. "We've cut you a lot of slack around here recently because of your problems...but this stupid little feud you've got going needs to stop. Now. I don't know if you two are jealous or idiots or just reacting to all the bottled testosterone that tends to build up whenever we're all crammed in here for extended periods of time on little sleep and all that, but it's well past time to stow your crap and get on with life. In case you've forgotten, Kevin, we've got a mess of angels wandering around on Earth and Hell is in utter chaos from everything we can tell. You concentrate on translating your God Rock - "

"Don't call it that."

" - and we'll focus on keeping Adam here sane and on ganking the fuglies."

Sam pinned them both in place with a Look, backing up Dean's statement and - much to his everlasting shame - Adam found tears welling up in his eyes. He blinked furiously, cursing his tear ducts. This was stupid. Everything was stupid. Why was he so angry all the time?

"So what is it?" Dean asked. "Haven't you been sleeping?"

Kevin snorted. "What are you, deaf?"

"You know what, _Kevin_?" Adam snapped, feeling the anger rise up to choke him again. "Go to hell."

"Don't have to, you already have!"

That was it. Adam jumped to his feet and fled deep into the Bunker, hearing Dean roar _"KEVIN TRAN!" _behind him and Sam launch into some diatribe...but he just couldn't take it any more. He was so angry and hot and burning and...and...oh God. Oh God...the flames were back. No, nononono! He couldn't do this! It was just Sam and Dean mad at him, not Lucifer and Michael. Not Lucifer and Michael. He was okay. He was in control. He was doing well. He was okay...like a train wreck.

Adam kicked a door open and stumbled into some kind of storeroom, sliding down the wall behind a dusty shelf and burying his face into his hands, tugging at tufts of hair and clenching his teeth as the darkness welled up inside of him. "Calm down. Calm down. SHUT UP!"

Trust freak him to turn a simple argument with a room-mate into an excuse for a flashback. Trust him to be so rattled by a scolding by his totally not scary older brothers that he nearly started tripping hells bells again. Trust him to turn what had been a fairly cathartic little spat into something hellish. Trust him to make a mountain out of a molehill.

So there he sat in the cool, dusty dark...taking deep breaths and clamping his hands firmly over his ears in an effort to just shut everything out for a moment. _Deep breaths, Milligan, deep breaths._

He sat there for what seemed like ages, listening to the pounding of his heart and quietly reciting everything he could remember from his Freshman anatomy textbook in an effort to distract his mind. It seemed to work as he found himself relaxing a bit, letting tense muscles uncurl and his breathing coming easier as his heart rate slowed. God. At this rate he was going to give himself an aneurysm before the month was out!

Eventually Adam became aware that he was no longer hearing only his own breathing and he tensed for a moment, listening intently for the source of the intruder sound.

_"I'm reviewing the situation; I'm a bad 'un and a bad 'un I shall stay! You're be seeing NO transformation! Though it's wrong to be a rogue in every way..."_

"Hello?" Adam called cautiously. "Who's there?"

_"I don't want nobody hurt for me or made to do the dirt for me..." _

Adam crawled over and pressed his ear against the shelf, hearing the singing a bit more clearly. Was there a secret room behind here? Interesting...

Experimenting a bit, Adam discovered that the shelves were made to swing outwards and, tugging on them, managed to open up the entrance to a dark room where the singing was echoing from. Adam couldn't see anything. It was almost pitch black. "H-hello?" He called hesitantly, ready to slam the shelves back in place if anything nasty happened.

"You know it's usually polite to show your face at some point during a 'blind date'." A gravely British voice remarked.

Adam frowned, trotted back across the room, and opened the door up enough to let a beam of light come through and illuminate the room he had just found. The room that was decorated with chains, shackles, and a pentagram that took up most of the floor. A pentagram that a short little man in a tattered, once-suave black suit was sitting calmly in a chair with a collar around his neck. Adam kind of remembered Dean saying a few choice words about 'that dick in the dungeon', but he had always figured it was just a euphemism for something and left well enough alone. Well this certainly looked like a dungeon!

The man smiled. "There, that's better." He said in a rather oily tone. "Pleasure to meet you. My name is Crowley.

"I'm Adam."

Crowley's face lit up into a rather sinisterly friendly smile. "Ah...so YOU'RE the long-lost Winchester Jr! Pleasure to meet you...can I have an autograph?"

"What?" Adam had NOT been expecting that.

"Yep. You're definitely the baby brother of the Moose."

"I don't understand."

"You should put that on a teeshirt." Crowley folded his hands in front of him and smiled again, this time in a way that was almost non-threatening. "I must confess, Baby Winchester," He said softly, "I must confess that I am rather curious. What was it like, being in the Cage?"

Adam glared. "None of your business, you unshaven toad." The memories were pounding out a deadly drumbeat in his skull and he clenched his teeth, shoving them back ruthlessly. Much as he was interested by this guy that had been shoved into a closet of a dungeon, he didn't trust him either. And he certainly wasn't about to let himself lapse into a flashback. He was stronger than that. He was!

Crowley was unperturbed. "My my...how feisty. I can see why old Daddy dearest kept you around."

"What?"

"Lucifer? The Prince of Darkness? Father of Lies? Fallen Morningstar? Any of this ringing a bell?" Adam said nothing and Crowley looked annoyed. "You mean to tell me that this nose of mine failed? That I was really smelling moose after-all instead of just Father in Hell whenever Sammy-boy got a bit too up-close-and-personal?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ah, sure you do. Hellfire, kid, you stink of it. Hellfire and angel Grace. Besides...there was a lot of talk on the supernatural grape vine about you. Guess this is what happens when old John Winchester can't keep it in his pants. Really should have covered the banana before sticking it into the doughnut..."

Adam coughed. Now THERE was a mental image he didn't need! "So what the hell are you doing down here?" He asked.

"Because your big brothers are dicks."

"Yeah. I kinda got that. Anything else?"

"Think they take exception to this," Crowley blinked and for a moment his eyes flashed solid black before he sat back smugly, as though expecting Adam to either scream in fright or fall down and worship him. Adam did neither.

"Okay, so you're a demon. Must suck to look like the villain from Fern Gully."

* * *

><p>Dean left Sam deep in a lecture to Kevin and went in search of Adam who had run off as if the hounds of Hell itself were at his heel. Which, given who they were talking about, that could very well have been the case. The kid had been a bipolar, schizophrenic mess ever since he had been spat out of the Pit - going from snarky and prickly one moment to curled up in a corner almost crying the next to even occasionally slipping into full-on flashback hallucination mode and sometimes even convulsing on the floor. It was really scary. Almost worse than anything even Sam had gone through (which, Dean supposed, made sense seeing as how Adam had been down there considerably longer) though thank God (wherever he was) that Adam was't dealing with Lucifer-vision 247.

But dealing with him was very draining because you never knew which Adam you were going to get and he could change at the drop of a hat if one of his ever-changing triggers were set off. And now the kid was loose somewhere within the Bunker, possibly sulking but also possibly choking on his own vomit or fighting a battle against imaginary assailants. Usually Dean would have left this job to Sam (who was much better at pulling Adam back to reality due to their shared experience) but time was of the essence here and Sam was busy.

Wait. The door to the dungeon room was open. Surely Adam hadn't gone in _there_...

Treading softly and putting all the training John had put him through to good use, Dean crept over to the doorway and flattened himself against the wall. Crowley was talking.

"...so then they have the audacity to threaten me with some kind of torture (whips and chains, by the look of this room) so I made a truly imaginative comment about S.A.M. in fishnets and a corset and - "

"I'm going to stop you right there." That was Adam, sounding a bit green. "Dude, I know you're a demon, but that's just sick. That's my brother you're talking about and I may be fresh back from...downstairs, but even down there incest isn't exactly looked on with favour."

"Feeling a bit hot under the collar there, Minimoose?"

"More like a bit queasy in the stomach. So you'd better stop unless you want me doing the Linda Blair routine on your designer leather shoes."

"So rude." Crowley sniffed. "You Winchesters are all alike. How you stopped the End of Days is beyond me. You're lucky Daddy seemed to have excellent facial features to pass down."

"It's 'Milligan', not 'Winchester'." Adam said coldly. Dean wasn't sure how he felt about his Hell-scrambled little brother having a near-amiable chat with the King of it...but before he could intervene, Crowley was talking again.

"Daddy was a Winchester so, by blood, you are too, bastard though you may be. Get used to it, Shrimp. If you hang out with those mutton-headed brothers of yours long enough they'll make a hunter of you yet and you're already fairly well-known in the supernatural world as the resurrected son of John Winchester. I'm sure every vamp this side of Purgatory will be eager for your blood seeing as how you've had an angel inside of you and all. Not to mention my demons are certain to be very, VERY interested."

"Huh." Adam's voice was unreadable. "Sorry to disappoint them, but I'm not available. I kind of have a thing against screwing anything that isn't human."

Crowley chuckled. "So no werewolves like dear Moose seemed to have a soft spot for? Shame. I've heard it's hot as anything, if you can avoid getting bit."

"Thank you for that illuminating and disturbing peek into my brother's sex life, Crowley. I SO needed that. Excuse me while I go retrieve my spork to gouge my eyes out."

"Such a sensitive stomach."

"Such a dirty mind. Why do you have Sam's love life memorised anyway?"

Dean was wondering the very same thing. That was just plain creepy...even for Crowley!

"Don't tell me you've never gotten lonely, Shrimp." The King of Hell said. "Demonic foreplay is only fun for so long before you feel the need to live vicariously through the lives of others. And who better than Moose? The intrigue! The tragedy! The inventive positions!"

"GROSS!" Adam sounded just as squicked as Dean felt (he had always SAID that Sam was a prudish pervert) and Crowley sniggered.

"What's wrong? Never heard of the birds and the bees? You mean to tell me you've been staying in motel rooms with those jackasses and never once tapped into the free HBO? Please tell me you've at least witnessed Daenerys."

"I have no idea who the hell you're talking about unless it's one of the missing Mirkwood elves. And yes I know what HBO is, dumbass. I've seen True Blood."

"Ah. Sookie. Charming southern girl...not sure if I'd call her a lady, though."

"You're weird."

"Go to Hell." Crowley sounded smug. Dean got ready to jump around the corner and strangle the King (useful bargaining ploy or not) whenever Adam huffed in annoyance.

"Already been." He said, voice flat and controlled. "Didn't really agree with me."

Oh God. And didn't _that _bring back bad memories! Memories of a Sam who smiled with his mouth but not with his eyes. Memories of a grandfather who sold them out to a demon. Memories of an angel who lied and betrayed and died. Memories of another time, another place, and another problem that had flung itself onto the Winchesters' shoulders.

The last time Dean had heard those words, it had been from a Sam who was missing his soul. From a Sam who was all to calculative and coldly logical. A Sam who never slept and rarely showed mercy if it wasn't convenient. Oh no. They weren't going down THAT road again!

Dean strode into the dungeon (ignoring Crowley's greeting of 'Howdy, Not-Moose!') and grabbed Adam by the shoulder (also ignoring the boy's instinctual flinch) and hauled him bodily out of there, slamming the doors behind him.

"Dude!" Adam protested. "What gives?" He choked as Dean spun him around and wrapped one arm around his neck, putting pressure on windpipe and both arteries. He struggled wildly for a moment, kicking and writhing as Dean hung on grimly, letting go the moment Adam went limp against him and carefully guiding his youngest brother down to the ground so he could gently check Adam's pulse.

"Sorry, kid." He muttered, feeling the strong pump of life-giving blood through Adam's veins beating under his fingertips. With some difficulty (Adam was tall and his dead weight was far from light) Dean pulled his brother up and managed to sling the kid over his shoulders in a fireman's hold. "Zeke?" He called as he came back towards the library.

"I am here, Dean." The angel wearing Sam's body stepped forward and frowned at Adam's limp form. "What happened?"

"Look. I need you to do something for me."

There was a sigh from Ezekiel. "I do not understand why you keep summoning me, Dean. Every minute I spend helping you is a drain on my Grace and another minute away from healing Sam. Every time I wipe Sam's memory I risk his discovering my presence and ejecting me which would be detrimental to his continued health and well-being as there is still much work to be done repairing what the Trials did to him. I should have thought that Sam's health would be placed rather higher on your priorities list."

"It _is._" Dean sighed. Dealing with angels aside from Cas (poor Cas...he should probably try to contact the guy soon) was always frustrating because they were all cruel dicks or oblivious dicks. "I get it, Zeke, okay? I don't want Sam finding out about you until he's healed either. No matter how much I hate this whole cloak-and-dagger thing you're insisting on here, I get it. You need to heal Sam from the inside and you can't do that if he's fighting against you. Okay. But Sam's no longer my only concern. I've got two brothers to look after now and you agreed to help me in return for me helping you. I've already turned Cas away for you and am lying to my own brother yet again because you said I have to...so the least you can do is help me here."

"What do you need?"

Dean looked at where he had settled Adam stretched out on the couch. "Where is Kevin?"

"Sam sent him to go for a run and work out some of his unjust wroth. Why?"

"Because I need you to stick your arm inside Adam's chest and check to see if his soul is there and intact."

"Was there ever any doubt?"

That earned the angel a glare. "Would I be asking you to put my brothers through this if there wasn't? Come on, Zeke. I just need you to check and make sure its in the right place and everything. The last thing we need is a repeat of the Soulless Sam adventure."

Ezekiel wrinkled his nose. "Very well." He said, rolling up Sam's sleeve and placing two fingers on Adam's forehead. "I have sent him into a dream of deep oblivion, he should not feel a thing, but I will need you to come and hold him down as the body often reacts badly to this kind of intrusion and I am not at full strength."

"I'll do anything you need me to...just get in there and find out if he's okay."

With that the angel plunged Sam's arm into Adam's chest (and, true to his warning, Adam's body jerked and tried to pull away, though he did not wake). After a moment of careful rooting around, Ezekiel withdrew and wiped his hand off on Sam's jeans. He took his sweet time rolling down Sam's sleeve and Dean became impatient.

"Well?" He demanded, arranging Adam into a more comfortable position. "Did you find anything?"


	13. Prophets And Angels And Souls, Oh My!

.

* * *

><p>Kevin threw himself down under a tree, gasping for breath and feeling a bit of sweat trickle down his neck. (Hey. He had been in Advanced Placement, not the track team and he didn't pump iron like Sam and Dean apparently seemed to do for fun.) A car honked at him as it drove past and he tensed automatically, feeling at the silver knife tucked into his shoe by his ankle for comfort. Was there ever a time when he didn't feel the need to constantly glance over his shoulder and look sideways at everyone he met? His life before felt like a distant, murky dream.<p>

"I am so screwed." He muttered, leaning back against his tree and feeling the rough bark dig into his back. The run had left him exhausted...but he'd needed SOMETHING to help him blow off steam.

He had no idea what had happened that morning - no idea why things had escalated so quickly while talking to Adam. Really he didn't. Somehow it had gone from a simply annoyance over a waving spork and off-key whistling to ugly, ugly words and wrestling on the kitchen floor. He had known for a while that Adam wasn't exactly stable (hell...were any of them?) but he just didn't even know what was going on any-more.

Okay, so he was out of line with the "Go to Hell" comment...Kevin would admit that he shouldn't have said that. But Adam wasn't exactly innocent either!

Maybe he should just leave. It was clear that there really wasn't a place for him in the Winchester circle. Ever since he had met the two crazy hulks that called themselves hunters he had been aware of this. From day one it had been SamandDean or DeanandSam...the two of them operating on a single wavelength and as one entity. Even last year after they returned from their radio silence and helped Kevin rescue his mother they had been scarily in sync. SamandDean. DeanandSam. There was no one without the other. It just wasn't possible.

And Kevin had accepted that. He understood that he would never be a part of their inner circle and he was okay with that. It wasn't like he was eager to elbow his way in, after all. That was THEIR business, not his. He didn't want to get involved.

He had also figured that it was DeanandSam/SamandDean inseparable and unchangeable for eternity. At least until that unpredictable smart-mouth Adam showed up.

Now suddenly it was all about SamandDeam + Adam and the buttload of issues he had brought with him. And, much as Kevin hated to admit it, Adam had shown that it wasn't just Sam and Dean who were exclusive. They had actually let Adam into whatever messed-up, tangled-up relationship that they had and proved that it wasn't just because they'd been partners for so long that they didn't notice anything else.

And Kevin had to admit that it hurt a bit. He was all alone in the world (his mother was gone, presumed dead; his girlfriend WAS dead; he was tangled up in a car theft/murder/kidnapping case that was still cold on the records; and half of the supernatural universe was out for his blood) and he had more-or-less latched onto the Winchesters because they were the only ones he knew in this insane world he had been thrust in to.

But it was clear that they weren't willing to be so accepting of him. Family always comes first to a Winchester...and Kevin wasn't family, no matter what Dean said. There was no place for him to stay there in their circle. He should go. He'd stay in contact, of course. They needed his translations and if he was resonating with the Word of God he should do SOMETHING with it. But he shouldn't try to stay and invade their space any longer. That would just make things worse.

He should go.

* * *

><p>"Well?" Dean demanded, arranging Adam into a more comfortable position after Zeke's procedure. "Did you find anything?"<p>

The angel gave him a stilted version of Sam's bitchface. "You'll be pleased to know that your draining of my 'batteries' was able to confirm that your brother's soul is indeed intact." He said, putting finger quotes around 'batteries' and speaking in a tone so passive-aggressive that Dean wondered for a moment if non-physical entities tended to pick up traits from whatever vessel or meatsuit they took up residence in. Because that had been all pure cranky Sammy with his tendency to get rather sarcastic whenever he was tired and annoyed...

...and then what Zeke had said fully registered in Dean's already-tired and overstuffed brain. "His soul is there?"

"Yes."

"Good. That's...that's great. That's awesome." Not that Dean had _really _thought that Adam's soul had been lost (the kid was bombarded by Hell memories and riled far too easily for it to be entirely gone) but with the almost word-for-word Soulless Sam quote ringing in his ears Dean had feared that something had gone awry. He was trying here. Trying to be a big brother to both the brother he raised and the brother he barely knew and...and it was a learning curve. He looked at the angel. "Zeke, be straight with me here. How is Sam doing."

"You mean how long must we keep this cloak-and-dagger masquerade going to protect your brother?"

"Yeah. Because, man, I tell you that he's going to be pissed whenever he finds out what I did. And the longer this goes on the worse it's going to be and, look, I want him to get better but I also don't want him feeling like I betrayed him."

Something in the angel's eyes softened slightly. "You did what you had to, Dean." He said. "And you did it for all the right reasons."

"Somehow I don't think Sam's going to see it that way. I let a mother-loving, friggan' ANGEL into his head without letting him know. No offence, but the last time that happened to him it was the freaking _DEVIL_ and he ended up in HELL next to Adam."

"You will know what to do when the time comes, Dean."

"I'm glad one of us thinks so." Dean ran a shaky hand through his hair. He was a bastard. A selfish, messed-up bastard who was in way over his head and who was just waiting for the other shoe to drop and blow everything up in his face. God. How had it come to this again? "How's the triaging of Sam's kidneys going?"

Ezekiel frowned. "Sam was gravely close to death whenever I first came to him." He said (as if Dean needed a reminder of the beeping heart monitors and the doctors shaking their heads and giving up). "For the longest of times I was preoccupied with merely being the finger in the dyke...keeping his body from failing and his soul from slipping away while I myself regained enough strength to begin work."

"So how is the work going now?"

"Slowly, but well enough. Much of my power goes to keep the symptoms cloaked from your brother so that he can rest and eat and breath without causing further damage to himself. The healing process is slow, but if he should begin to cough again or to eschew food and sleep all of my hard work thus far would be for naught. Sam is still very sick."

"Lovely."

"But I myself gain strength every day, Dean. The work will go on. I have not forgotten my promise to you."

"So Sam is on the mend and Adam is not de-soulled...not a bad day in the Winchester books, over-all." Dean sighed.

Ezekiel shook Sam's head. "Adam's spirit is very troubled, filled with pain and anger. The taint of Hell clings tightly to him and a lesser soul would have, with all likeliness, already crumbled and broken."

"A lesser soul?"

"All souls are alike when a child is born." Ezekiel said gravely. "Then the choices that child makes, along with the trials and triumphs that they go through during their life, shapes the soul and bends it either towards the light or the dark. There is a reason that some souls in Hell start turning into demons within weeks of their arrival while it takes years of torment for others to utterly break."

"Yeah. I know that." Dean rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to think of his own time spent on the Rack. "What about Adam's soul?"

"Do you know when I first beheld your brother in that hospital bed, Dean?" Ezekiel seemed to be getting a bit off-topic, but Dean swallowed back his automatic reply and let the angel talk. "I saw a soul that has been broken so many times that there should be little left of it. It has been stained, beaten down, skinned alive, burnt from the inside out, and shining so brightly that it was an ache even to my eyes. Sam's soul gleams with a fierce love for you and all of the scar tissue he bears as a burden has merely served to make him stronger. I sense the same thing in you, and I see the same qualities in this, your youngest brother. Winchesters never cease to amaze us. I long suspected that we have never given humans the credit they deserve. Lucifer was wrong to rebel when our Father called you his crowning creation. Guard your brothers well, Dean. Adam lies on the cusp of shattering, but his soul is not yet beyond hope and carries the same strength within that I see in Sam and in you."

Dean stared. That was the longest speech Ezekiel had ever made and it was...strangely touching. "Thank you, Zeke." He said softly. "Thank you."

The angel nodded and turned around to walk away. "I will set Sam down in his bed and make him think he laid down with a book and drifted off to sleep."

"Yeah. You do that."


	14. Angels in the Bunker

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* * *

><p><em><strong>Eighth Day of Firstfrost, Avalon, Faerie<strong>_

_**Bros! Say...have you ever tangled with a leprechaun? Because I ran into one who peered at me suspiciously and wouldn't stop muttering about 'stupid mortals and stupider Winchesters'.**_

_**Come to think of it, wouldn't surprise me if you had. You guys have done everything, haven't you?**_

_**Anyway. We've finally driven the last of the Wheelers out of Oz and now I'm with Gilda making a sweep of the Oz/Avalon border to make sure that there aren't any groups left. Kind of wish we didn't have to wipe them out...but this whole war started because someone showed too much mercy before. Not going to repeat history. Nope. No. I know better.**_

_**Hope y'all are doing well (insert threats of ass-kicking here...I really do mean it). I'll be home soon and I'll give you all these letters then.**_

_**Love ya!**_

_**Charlie**_

* * *

><p>"Morning, Adam, Dean."<p>

"Morning, Sammy!"

Sam sniffed the air experimentally. "Is that bacon I smell?"

"Yup." Dean flipped a piece of sizzling cured pork over expertly. "Gotta feed the runt something other than eggs and yoghurt."

"I'm not a runt." Adam said with a scowl that didn't seem all _that _offended. Sam grinned.

"Well you're shorter than Dean." He said. "So, yeah, that makes you the runt of the family."

Dean rolled his eyes while Adam protested that he wasn't THAT much shorter than Dean. "Should I be insulted, Sam?"

There was a snort from the tallest brother as he ducked his head to look into the fridge, cheerfully giving Dean the finger and swiping a piece of cooling bacon as he did so. "You can take it any damn way you please." He said, dodging Dean's spatula and juggling the bacon for a moment before popping it in his mouth.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Oh brother." Adam tipped up his cup and drained out the coffee. "You two are certifiably insane."

"People in glass houses, kid." Dean said, putting aside another batch of bacon to drain off the grease that, even to him, seemed a bit excess. "It's a family trait, I'm afraid."

"Yeah. I kind of gathered that."

Dean threw a dishtowel at Adam who caught it deftly and chucked it right back, successfully hitting Dean in the face. Sam poured himself a bowl of Lucky Charms (for some reason Dean had been stocking up on those a lot recently) and got some coffee. "Where's Kevin?"

"In the library using your laptop - hope that's all right because he is - to keep working on the Tablet translation or something."

"Hmmm." Sam took a moment to nick another piece of bacon (Dean did smack him on the wrist that time). "Well I'm off. Taking my phone, so give me a ring if you need me."

"Where are you going?"

"Down to the computer room. Charlie was downloading that angel tracking program before she left and it should have finished by now. I'm going to see if I can get it working."

Dean snorted. "You just want a chance to play with her fancy-dancy iPad." He said, sounding slightly nervous for some reason.

Sam didn't deny the accusation and made his way through the Bunker (past Kevin, who seemed to be composing an email) with his breakfast in hand. He had been putting off finishing the angel project for a while now, but since Adam seemed to be doing well today and they had nothing else to do, he was going to finish at last.

And yes, he was looking forward to experimenting with Charlie's iPad a bit.

Cracking Charlie's password wasn't all that difficult (Sam guessed TORCHWOOD on his fifth try of seeing the clue DOCTORWHO...it was an anagram) but then again she wasn't really trying. This wasn't her laptop.

Sam sorted through the different apps until he found the file labelled 'downloads' and opened it, waiting for the software to load so Charlie's genius could work its magic. He munched on his Lucky Charms and lounged in a chair while the devices bleeped and blinked. It just felt _so _good to kick back and relax with no angels to worry about and no demons to gank. Not that Sam hated hunting (he was years removed from the broody, rebellious teenager who had nearly killed himself trying to keep up an A+ grade average as well as research hunts for his family and train) but he couldn't say that he relished in it the way some others did. Neither did Dean. Really the only reason the two of them kept going was because they had no other choice; no other option.

Retiring from hunting usually only happened in one way - in a body bag that was stolen from the morgue by your buddies for a salt and burn. There was no getting out. Oh sure you could try to kick back and let life go on (Sam had tried twice and Dean once) but every time you read the newspapers you would still automatically scan for potential cases. You'd still wake up at night, haunted by the faces of those you failed to save. And, more likely than not, you'd ultimately be pulled back into the life until it killed you (and if you were a Winchester, it didn't even stop there).

And yet, for the first time in years, Sam felt content. He was healthy and sane and he had a secure place to live and work in with Dean and now Adam and even Kevin seemed to be unwinding a bit...arguments with Adam not withstanding. Life was good.

There was no apocalypse. No Ruby screwing things up. No demon deal hanging over their heads. No running and fighting and burning out, winning only by the skin of their teeth. And, best of all, Sam felt that he and Dean were finally on the same page. After so long of having guilt and anger and hurt pulling them in so many directions away from each other, they could finally learn how to be brothers again. It hadn't felt like this since the terrible year where Dean's deal was counting down by the hour and they just tried to spend as much time as close together as possible. Only now there was no deal. There was no sense of obligation. Oh sure there was the problem of Metatron and the fallen angels...but it wasn't the same. And he and Dean were ready to face them together.

They would solve that problem together. They would help Adam together. They would just be brothers together. And it felt so good. You don't know what you're thirsting for until you finally get a taste of it again.

Charlie's iPad clicked, whirring out graphs and a tiny interactive map.

Sam leaned forward and frowned. Why did the computer say that there was an angel right there in the Bunker?


	15. The Webs We Weave

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* * *

><p>Sam just stared at the notification, feeling a cold, sick feeling build up in the pit of his stomach. An angel in the Bunker? No! What?<p>

He jabbed a couple of buttons and made the little device do the search again, sitting back and picking at a hangnail nervously as the computers whizzed around him and downloaded the information to the iPad. Maybe something had glitched the first time.

The device clicked and, nervously, Sam scanned the information.

It was the same as before - a big, red marker hovering right over the Bunker. Sam wiped sweaty palms on his jeans. What was he going to do now?

His earlier feeling of content calm utterly dissipating, Sam took a couple of deep breaths and leaned forward on his elbows. Okay. Okay...he could do this. Just figure it out and then figure out how to take care of it. It was just another case. Nothing to worry about there. He'd get Dean and they'd kick it in the ass just like they always -

Crap. What if _Dean _was the angel? Sam was almost 100% sure that Dean would never, of his own free will, say 'Yes' to one of those winged dicks...

...unless it was to protect someone in his family.

Like a freight train a slew of unpleasant memories began playing through Sam's brain - memories of the long-ago days before Hell where Dean and he had been living off of booze and adrenaline and had been at their wits end as the world started to crumble around them. The time when Dean was so sure that Sam wouldn't be strong enough to keep the Devil from devouring him that he was ready to say 'Yes' to Michael and just end it all.

Sam usually tried to avoid thinking about that time with its broken trust and hurtful memories (a certain unforgettable voicemail came to mind, as did an amulet tossed carelessly into a motel trash can) but with the return of Adam he found that those days were called to mind more often than not. Not that Sam was exactly the sort of person to live in the past (for all of the other things he had inherited from his father - like stubbornness - he hadn't gotten the grudge-holding that John clung to like a creed) but now he found himself going back to memories he had long thought buried...until some unseen force reminded him to leave well-enough alone and he turned away.

But one thing Sam remembered and remembered only too clearly...and that was the fact that Dean would be perfectly willing to say 'Yes' to an angel if it meant protecting Sam from something.

And oh God...what was he going to do? How could he be sure? It mayn't even be Dean. Maybe Kevin still had enough Grace in him from whatever Metatron did to him to show up. Maybe...maybe it was Adam! But how to know? Sam supposed that he could try a banishing sigil and see who vanished, but what good would that do? Then the angel would just be gone and would be pissed. But he had to try something...anything...nothing.

His vision went blue as Ezekiel abruptly resurfaced and took control. He knocked Charlie's iPad off of the table, yanking out all of the wires and grinding Sam's heel into the screen and leaving it shattered and cracked beyond redemption. Then he walked Sam's body out of the room and back nearly towards the library before setting him walking towards the computer room as if he had never been there in the first place.

"I am sorry, Sam Winchester." The angel said regretfully, wiping Sam's memory. "This is for your own good."

* * *

><p>"Dean? Did you leave a bowl of cereal down in the computer room?"<p>

"What?" Dean looked up from his dishpan in surprise as a very confused Sam came back into the kitchen, scratching his head.

"There's a half-eaten bowl of Lucky Charms down in the computer room. Was that you?"

"No. I'm pretty sure you're the one with the Lucky Charms fetish around here."

"Well I certainly don't remember taking it down there." Sam was starting to chew on a cuticle. "Dean...Dean, what if it's starting again?"

Dean wiped his soapy hands on his jeans and turned his full attention to his nervous-looking brother. "What are you talking about, Sammy?"

"Hallucinations, Dean. I keep on losing time and waking up with strange bruises or just feeling sick. What if the Trials messed with whatever Cas did to take them away and I'm going crazy again?" He tore at his long hair agitatedly. "Dean...I'm scared."

Oh dear Lord. Dean was going to DEEP FRY and FRICASSEE that angel with holy fire and his best carving knife just for scaring Sam to the point that the tall hunter was willing to admit it. Maybe Dean should be grateful that Sam was being honest like they had promised to be (and didn't THAT make him feel like a world-class heel!) but at the same time it must be _bad _if Sam was saying he was scared. And anyone who did that to Dean's little brother got their lungs ripped out...celestial being or not.

Sam was still rambling, "I can't be having them again, Dean. I can't! That's the last thing you need to have to deal with right now, along with Adam and Cas and everything. Maybe I should just go check myself back into the psych ward and - "

"Now hold on!" Dean interrupted, some of his anger at Zeke bleeding through and making Sam flinch. He took a deep breath. "Sammy. Do you honestly think that if you're really going crazy - which you're not, you're going to be fine - do you really think I would just send you off to be locked up and rot?" Sam opened up his mouth to speak, but Dean barrelled on. "I wasn't just flapping my lips for fun back in that church, you know. I damn well meant every word. No way would I let you go off to the funny farm all alone."

"But Dean," Sam's voice was reasonable and oh-so broken, "If my issues really have started again then I'm not safe to be around. Last time it was just Lucifer singing in my ear...but I know I almost shot you a couple of times. I'm a danger to everybody around me and who knows what it will be this time! You don't need me to deal with. Adam needs all your attention now."

Dean stared at Sam. "That's bull. Utter and total bull." He said. "First off, I thought we talked about this whole 'your life isn't worth crap' crap. Because that isn't true. None of it. So kindly do yourself a favour and shut up before I have to beat the message into you. Secondly, THE HELL? Have we even been talking to the same kid over the past couple of weeks? Adam needs you a hell of a lot more than he needs me. He knows you. You're the only one who can pull him back sometimes. I don't know what happened to you two down there...but he needs you to keep him sane."

"I can't do that if I'm tripping hell's bells too, Dean."

"You're not. Trust me."

Sam sighed. "And how are you so sure?"

"Because I'm the big brother and I know best."

"But -"

"Nope. No arguments." Dean felt like he was fourteen again and arguing with an inquisitive ten-year-old Sammy. The kid never COULD just take an answer and run with it. "I say you're not going crazy, Sam, and do you really think I'd lie about that?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Then stop fussing. Whatever it is, Sam, we'll take care of it. Together."

* * *

><p><strong>Read &amp; Review! :)<strong>


	16. Heaven Can Wait

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><p>"So, you going nuts too?" Adam flopped down in the library chair across from Sam and fixed his older brother with a grim smile.<p>

"What?"

"You're going batty, cuckoo, insane? Well...more than usual."

Sam stared. Was Adam...was Adam actually making a _joke_?! "Where'd you get that from?"

Adam gave him a look. "I heard you and Dean talking this morning. What was that all about?" When Sam said nothing, Adam rolled his eyes. "C'mon, you can tell me."

"Are you sure?"

Another eye-roll from the youngest Winchester. "Dude. I'm _fine_!" He complained. "I just wanted to know why you and Dean are bickering about Lucky Charms."

"I just...whenever I came back from downstairs." Sam said slowly, watching Adam's reaction carefully. (Adam, to his credit, barely flinched.) "I, well, I was pretty messed up."

"Well I'd think so!"

"Yeah." Sam rubbed his nose. "And a bunch of stuff happened and I pretty much went crazy for a while."

"What type of crazy? Axe-murderer crazy or Think I'm Napoleon crazy?"

"Like I Have The Devil Literally On My Shoulder crazy."

"Ouch." Adam winced. "That's no fun."

Sam laughed, maybe a little bit hysterically, and nodded. "Yeah. Tell me about it."

"So...how did you get better? I mean, I'm assuming that you're not listening to Satan tap dance his way through your skull right now, right?"

"No. I'm not."

"What changed?"

"Well it got REALLY bad for a while there." Sam said. "He wouldn't let me sleep. At all. It nearly killed me, ya know? Then Cas came back."

"That angel in the silly trench-coat and backwards tie? The one who molotoved Michael?"

"Yeah. He'd been...missing for a while, but he came back and somehow shifted the hallucinations to himself."

"Wow." Adam said softly. "That's incredible." For once he didn't sound defeated or angry or slurring with exhaustion. Maybe last night had been a better night than usual? (Though none of them could be called 'good' exactly...) "I don't suppose, I mean," Adam went on. "Do you think he'd be able - or willing - to do something like that for me?"

Something sickening twisted in Sam's stomach. Oh God. Adam sounded so hopeful. He was reluctantly leaning forward in interest, eyes shining with something like half-fearing hope. It was something Sam had NEVER gotten the chance to hear or see his younger brother display...and now he had to take it away.

"Cas isn't an angel any more, Adam." Sam said, trying to be as gentle as possible and feeling as though he had just kicked an innocent puppy as Adam's face fell and closed off again and the boy hunched in on himself, relaxed pose fading away.

"Oh. Damn."

"I'm sorry, Adam."

"Ah...whatever. It was a stupid idea anyway. Just ignore me."

* * *

><p>"Cas? Are you okay?"<p>

Kevin looked up as Dean came into the library, talking intently into his phone. Lovely. Cas was on the line. Kevin didn't exactly know the angel all that well (his most vivid memories were of an intrusive boop on the nose being offset by a personal-space-shattering yank on his lapels and the declaration that he was doomed to be a prophet until the day he died) but it was obvious that the Winchesters seemed to care about him quite a bit and...come think of it...why _wasn't _Castiel living here at the Bunker too? Wasn't he the one that had all of Heaven out for his blood?

Huh. Weird. Wasn't any of Kevin's business, though.

"Well thanks, Cas. We'll look into it." Dean closed the phone with a click and looked around. "Hey, Kev." He said. "Have you seen Sammy?"

The prophet shrugged. "I think he might be down at the shooting range."

"Thanks."

Dean found Sam, just as Kevin said, down in the shooting range, putting clip after clip of bullets into the heart and head of one of the targets and he just stood there for a moment, watching in approval as Sam hit the target bulls-eyes time and time again without faltering. THIS was the way it was supposed to be - Sam on the road back to healthy and as competent at badassery as ever. THIS was why Dean had helped Zeke secure Sam's unwitting 'Yes'. THIS was why it had to work out...it just had to. Too much was at stake here and, much as Dean felt guilt over the lies that only seemed to thicken and grow worse, he couldn't take it back. Seeing Sam standing there confidently now was worth it. It was SO worth it.

Dean cleared his throat. "Room for one more down here?"

Sam jumped. "Dean! You startled me."

"Yeah. I kind of gathered that, given the old moose-in-the-headlights vibes you're giving off right now. What...was the contemplation of a bullet-riddled piece of cardboard really that entrancing?"

"Been reading the dictionary again?"

"Shut up." Dean slapped Sam's shoulder good-naturedly. "I read."

"Yeah. Car and skin mags."

"Don't diss the classics, Sammy-boy!" Dean picked up a gun from the ledge and fired off a couple of shots, hitting the target right in the heart. "So. Any particular reason you're down here playing Annie Oakley?"

Sam shrugged. "Just working out some anger issues." He said with a wry grin. "Figured this was a bit more profitable than going into town to get drunk and start a barfight."

"You just don't know how to have fun."

"Is there a point to this conversation? Or are you just here to make fun of my therapy choices?"

"Actually I wanted to let you know that Cas called."

"What?" Sam clicked the safety on his gun and tucked it into his belt out of habit. Dean bent over to pick up a couple of empty shells.

"Yeah. About ten minutes ago or so."

"How's he doing?"

"Good, fine." Dean said. "Says he's got himself a job and somewhere to live (REALLY want to know how he filled out the application) and that he thinks he has a case for us. There's been people exploding into a cloud of pink, glittery dust in the town where he is. Some serious My Little Pony shit going on, I'm telling you."

"My Little Pony?"

"...shut up. Anyway. Cas says that it could be some type of angelic activity so I'm just going to head over and check it out."

"You mean _we _are, right?"

"Maybe you should sit this one out." Dean said nervously. The last thing they needed was for some angel to recognise the healing presence hiding somewhere within Sam and to out the whole operation before the silly sasquatch was fully better. Dean knew that he had been rather dependant on Zeke in the past month or so and that, as a result, it was taking longer than planned to heal Sam up from the devastating effects of the Trials.

Sam just gave Dean a look that said **b****ig brother is being an idiot **at THAT suggestion. "I'm coming with." He said in a tone eerily reminiscent of Charlie. "You need back-up and we both know that, without his mojo, Cas isn't exactly able to smite legions any more. He's pretty decent with a blade...but he's also mortal now."

"I don't know..."

"Oh COME ON, Dean! What? Afraid I'm going to mess up or something? Or are you just planning on trolling for chicks and don't want me along?"

"What? Sammy, no! That's not it!" Dean was horrified. Clearly something had come out wrong to get _that _level of miscommunication across! "It's not the first and, if it was the second, I'd totally want you along as a wingman so that the women would naturally gravitate towards me even more than usual because they're scared of The Hair."

Sam glared. "Shut up. My hair is fine."

"Samantha, Samantha, let down your hair!"

"Shut up. Why don't you want me to come with you?"

Dean was given flashbacks to a ten-year-old Sammy demanding to know _why _he had to stay at Plucky's for the rest of the afternoon...or a sixteen-year-old Sam frustrated by Dad's mandate that Sam be left at the house while they went on the hunt...except even that teenaged Sam at his worst had never sounded so upset and even hurt as he did now. "You're still on the mend, Sam." Dean tried again, trying to salvage the situation. "I know you feel fine and all that, but you almost died! With everything that's happened with Adam and Abaddon and all that, you haven't had time to really rest up. So I'll take care of the angel issue Cas thinks he's spotted (should be a simple stab-and-fireworks) and you focus on getting all better so that we can go and kick some fugly ass together just like old times, okay?"

There was a stubborn shake of the head from Sam. "I'm fine, Dean. You need back-up."

"I've got Cas."

"Cas is just another human...and he's not even trained as a Hunter. He's good with an angel blade, but that's about it. We haven't even talked to him since he decided to leave the Bunker - " And didn't _that _bring up feelings of uncomfortable guilt within Dean! " - and who knows what's happened to him since. No. You need someone to watch your back and I'll be damned if I let you go out there to face some unknown angel without me there. Got it?"

There was just no reasoning with Sam when he was like this. Oh well. At least Zeke could look after him and make sure he didn't hurt himself. "Okay, fine, dude. Pack your crap. We're going God Squad hunting."

"I'll go let Adam know." Sam headed for the stairs.

"Adam?"

"Well we can't very well leave him alone here with Kevin, now can we?"

"...true." The two boys had avoided each other since their big, ugly fight that had resulted in their wrestling in the kitchen over a spork (Dean STILL hadn't gotten to the bottom of THAT one) but things were definitely still less-than-friendly between them. "Fine. I'll let Kevin know we're leaving for a while."

* * *

><p>"You know, I don't even know why you guys brought me with you."<p>

Dean looked in the rearview mirror at Adam who looked slightly green and very irritated. "You doing okay back there, dude?"

"No. If you don't slow down on these hairpin turns I'm going to hurl all over your leather seats. You drive like a maniac!"

At the threat to Baby's upholstery, Dean was stepping on the brakes and sending his brothers jerking forward. "DUDE!" Sam protested, clutching his laptop to his chest protectively. "Watch it!"

"No puking in my car. Got it?"

Two identical eye-rolls happened in perfect synchronisation. "Yes, Dean."

Dean held on to the steering wheel with one hand, using the other and his teeth to pop open a cassette case. With only a bit of fumbling (the curves _were _tight and he needed to keep his eyes on the road) Dean managed to get the tape into the player and turn the volume up to let the guitar riff of ZZ Top's 'Sharp Dressed Man' blare over the speakers.

"Oh God." Sam groaned, pulling out his iPod and earbuds.

In the backseat, Adam was quietly jamming.

Dean grinned.

* * *

><p>The Impala was parked outside of a warehouse. "Okay." Dean said, checking his gun carefully. "Sam and I are going to head in and scout the place out. You hold down the fort here, Adam. With any luck we can be going out for ribs and milkshakes within an hour."<p>

Sam closed up his computer and stuffed it under the seat. "Sure we know what we're getting into?"

"Yup. Cas said that the killings bear all the hallmarks of an angel named Ephraim. We've just gotta go talk some sense into that son of a bitch and hopefully nobody will have to stick anybody else." Dean looked at Adam. "You know what to do, kid?"

"I know, I know." Adam said, sounding bored. "Keep you two on speed dial, keep the doors locked, and if a bunch of blindingly bright white celestial matter that sounds like a speaker backfeed shows up, no saying 'Yes'. Trust me. I've got it."

His brothers gave him a long look. "Okay." Dean said at last. "Let's get this freak show on the road!"

He and Sam got out of the car, locked Adam in it with the keys (and one last admonition to drive away at top speed if everything went south), and headed towards the warehouse where Ephraim the Mercy Killer might be holed up.

It was a dank and gloomy place, as most abandoned warehouses tend to be, with just enough clutter and refuse left inside to make it both a nightmare to navigate and unsettling.

Still...it was better than digging through a witch's closet or digging up a _fresh _corpse.

They crept around for about half an hour, methodically sweeping every inch, nook, and cranny of that place in an effort to find the marauding angel. But to no avail. Lady Luck was smiling even less than usual on the Winchesters that night and, eventually, Dean called it a bust.

"There's not a damn thing here." He said, clicking his flashlight on and off in annoyance. "Son of a bitch gave us the slip, damn him."

"Do you think he knew we were coming?"

"I don't see how." Unless he could smell Ezekiel or something. Dean _really _hoped that wasn't the case. "But, yeah, let's get the hell out of here and get ourselves and the kid to some place to catch some shut-eye. We can try again tomorrow."

Except they wouldn't because when Sam and Dean returned to the Impala it was to find her with a smashed-in window, three slashed tires, and no little brother in the back-seat.

Adam was gone.


	17. Doggie-B-Gone

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* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_**Argh! I apologise for how comparatively late this came out...but I do have an excuse! My internet was down. Blasted technology...**_

* * *

><p>Sam stared at the damaged Impala, dumbfounded. What the hell? They hadn't been gone <em>that <em>long! Why hadn't Adam called them?

That question was answered whenever the brothers circled around the car and found the cheap, pay-by-the-minute phone they had bought for Adam last night at Cas' convenience store. It was smashed to smithereens by some heavy boot.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean groaned, running his fingers along the wrenched-open car door. "Dammit. Sulphur." He immediately flipped his own phone open and pressed speed-dial. "Cas." He growled. "Tell me that there haven't been any demonic omens around here recently."

"Shhhh, Dean." Castiel whispered from the other end of the line. "I just got her to sleep."

"Got who to sleep? If you've been necking with that boss of yours while we're out here freezing our nuts off and cleaning up your mess then I'm going to - "

"The _baby _is sleeping, Dean."

"Please tell me you haven't knocked some poor woman up."

Sam could practically _hear _Castiel roll his eyes. "No, Dean. I'm babysitting. And I'd prefer if you didn't...no, no...shhhhh, go back to sleep."

The wail of an infant rang out tinnily over the phone's speaking and Dean winced, holding it away from his ear. "Cas? Talk to me." He said.

Instead of talking, though, Castiel broke into song...mumbling out the words to what Sam was pretty sure was the Doxology in Enochian, interspersed with pleas for the screaming baby to "...just _please _go back to sleep."

Dean waited for a moment, impatiently tapping his feet and whistling tunelessly. "Cas?" He said at last, voice extremely controlled. "Please. Are you finished?"

"What is it, Dean? What's wrong?"

"I know you said that we're tracking an angel, but humour me. Have there been any demonic omens around here recently? Freak storms? Electrical fluctuations? Sulphuric smells?"

"Unless the stench left by my coworker David whenever he breaks wind counts, then no." Castiel's voice was _far _too serious to be talking about such an, erm, flatulent subject and - despite himself - Sam stifled an inappropriate grin.

Dean just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So you haven't noticed anything?"

"In case you've forgotten, Dean," Cas' voice was harried and a little bit irritable, "My 'mojo' as you call it is gone and I am no longer able to track demons as I once could." He sounded quite bitter.

"Yeah, we got that." Dean said calmly. "But we're asking you to track them the human way. Has there been ANYTHING out of the usual around here lately?"

"You mean aside from Ephraim turning people into piles of pixie dust?"

Man had turning Castiel into a human made him sarcastic! "Yes."

Castiel hemmed and hawed quietly for a moment (and there was a muffled crash and a bit of swearing in what Dean took to be Enochian as if he had knocked something over) before, "Well, there was a freak electrical storm about a week ago one town over...but it is summer and the newscaster said that it wasn't unusual around here."

"Dammit." Dean groaned. "It's never 'just a freak storm', Cas. At least not where we're concerned."

"You sound upset, Dean. What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing, Cas, nothing. Maybe just that my little brother is friggan' GONE?"

"What? Sam?"

Sam sighed. Why were they wasting this time on chit-chat? Every second that they stood around Adam was being taken further and further away and having goodness knows what done to him. "It's not me, Cas." He said, swiping Dean's phone. "It's Adam. Demons have him."

Silence from the other end of the line. Then, "Damn."

"Yeah. We know. So we're going to go get him. What was the name of the town where the storm was?"

* * *

><p>It was dark when he woke up. Dark and dank and cold. Adam pushed the foul-tasting cloth out of his mouth with a dry, swollen tongue and choked on the lint. "Dammit." He rasped, wincing as a bruised neck and dry throat abused his vocal chords. Where was he again?<p>

Slowly, painfully Adam raised his head and looked around cautiously. He seemed to be in some kind of basement and, when he tried to roll over and sit up, he found that he was lashed down at the wrists and ankles to whatever hard surface (probably a table) he was laying on.

_Okay, Adam, breath. _He said to himself as he tugged on the bonds and found that they weren't giving. _You're cool. You can do this. You're fine. You'll make it. It's just cold and dark and you're totally helpless...you're not downstairs or anything, right?_

Oh God. He couldn't breath. Oh God. The walls were closing in! The air was so cold! Oh God no, no, no, no. Not again! _Why_?

Visions of hellfire were dampened, though, as the dusty lightbulb right above his head clicked on, searing his retinas with its artificial light and drawing a groan of pain out.

The sound of high heel clicking down wooden stairs made him strain his eyes to see who exactly he had to fight off this time. He was quite sure it wasn't either of his brothers (as neither Sam nor Dean would be caught DEAD in high heels, whatever Crowley said) and gasped as the taste of sulphur settled on his tongue as a tall, redheaded woman in a leather jacket came into view.

"Adam Winchester." She said. "Well...it _is _a pleasure to meet you at last."

"We haven't met if I don't know your name." Ms. Ginger Leather was a demon. She had to be. 900+ years in...downstairs had been good for one thing: he knew that demons always smelled of sulphur, especially whenever they weren't bothering to try to cloak themselves.

Ginger Leather smiled. It did not look friendly. Adam gulped.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is the place, Sam?" Dean clutched the steering wheel of their stolen jeep (poor, poor Baby was out of commission until they could lift some new tires and a new door handle) and peered through the darkness at the old farmhouse.<p>

"Well, judging by the anti-angel warding graffiti'd on that fence, I'd say so." Sam said. "We've checked every other abandoned structure in town."

Dean looked at the warding in concern. Crap. How was he to get Samzekiel through those? Hmmm. Well it _was _on a fence. Maybe if he just toppled half of it over and broke the sigil? Could he do that without tipping Sam off?

"...Dean? Are you listening to me?"

"Sorry, Sammy, what?"

Sam huffed. "I said, Dean, that we need to get moving. God only knows what they're doing to Adam in there."

"Damn right." Dean grabbed the supply of Jesus Juice and climbed out of the jeep. "If we don't hurry the kid could be set back right to where he was whenever we first found him." He subtly walked over to the fence and kicked half of it down, as if to vent his feelings. "Come on, Sam!"

* * *

><p>"Well, now, haven't you just grown up big and strong?" Ginger Leather (who had introduced herself as Queen Abaddon) cooed, stroking Adam's hair. "You know...I have to say that the Winchester line is good for something. You'll make a handsome meatsuit for my second-in-command once we're done with you."<p>

"W-what are you going to do?" Adam cursed the waver in his voice as Abaddon smirked. Nut up, Milligan! You can have your breakdown later...much later...after this demon is exorcised and sent back to the dark corner of Hell from whence she came.

"I'm going to perform a little experiment on you. The Winchester line is an old, curious one and I am...academically interesting in discovering what makes it tick."

"Well I hate to tell you, but you've got the wrong guy. I'm not a Winchester."

Adam winced as her red-manicured nails dug into his cheek. "Oh but you are." The she-demon said, getting up close to his face and letting him smell the sulphur that rolled off of her in waves. "And I'm going to have _such _fun pulling you apart piece by piece."

"Wow. Did you learn the intimidation speech from Maleficent?"

His head snapped to the left as she slapped his face, leaving a scarlet handprint.

* * *

><p>Sam and Dean crept up onto the porch (narrowly avoiding a squeaky board) and flattened themselves against the peeling paint of the wall. Dean cautiously peered in through the rusted screen door. "Dammit." He said softly, jerking back from the dingy light.<p>

"Demons?"

"Yeah. Three of 'em. Playing bridge."

"Damn."

Both brothers knew that they could probably take the demons in the kitchen by surprise and neutralise them fairly easily (providing none of them were high level enough to possess telepathy) but they had no idea how many were in the house or on the grounds all-told and the last thing they wanted to do was end up with Adam in a hostage situation. This had to be done delicately.

Then a blood-curdling scream cut through the night.

* * *

><p>"AAAACH!" Adam screamed, back arching as much as it was able and limbs jerking in pain as he tried to squirm free. Abaddon smirked, dropping the fingernail she had extracted into a bowl and reaching calmly for Adam's face with a hand that was bloody from where she had sliced into his arm mere moments before. He grunted as she grasped a handful of hair and yanked - pulling it out by the roots and sprinkling it into the macabre concoction she was preparing. "Is that the best you can do?" He slurred.<p>

"Stupidity runs in the family, I see."

"How do you figure that?" _Focus on the pain, focus on the pain. Let it ground you. _

"Only a fool would fail to be frightened of me. Like grandfather, like grandson, I suppose."

Adam ignored that comment, curious as it made him, in favour of sneering at her. "Well I hate to disappoint you, but you're not all that scary."

This time the slap to the face didn't surprise him, though the nails raking across his cheek did. He lay there quietly for a moment, basking in the sting of his injuries and, like Dean had said, letting them hold the memories of soul-deep pain at bay. The last thing he needed just now was to go into a full-on flashback incident. He wouldn't show weakness. He wouldn't!

Abaddon was talking again. "You know that vessels are such a fascinating phenomena." She said, stirring the bowl with something that looked eerily like a bone.

"Do you have to make conversation?"

"Don't be rude. I know it is too much to ask the spawn of a Winchester to afford me the respect I deserve, but you still shouldn't interrupt a lady."

"Huh. When I find a lady, I'll make sure to be polite to her."

He really should have seen the sudden, crushing pressure to his nail-less finger coming...but that didn't stop the strangled cry from tearing itself out of his throat. Abaddon smirked. "Now, as I was saying." She went on. "Vessels are something that none of us quite understand. What is it that makes the frail, fallen human body capable of containing all of the deadly Grace and majesty that is an angel?"

"I don't know - our ability to manufacture Moon Pies?"

* * *

><p>Whatever else you could say about John Winchester, he certainly trained his two eldest children well. Dean didn't exactly harbour warm-and-fluffy feelings towards the man (Oh how times had changed since he was the tender age of twenty!) but even in his least-friendly moments he was grateful to John for the training they had received.<p>

Especially now as he and Sam, falling into a silent rhythm only perfected over years of hunting and fighting and dying together, slipped into the house and started mowing their way through the ranks of demons.

Fortunately most of the black-eyed pests seemed to be fairly low-level (Sam was certain that some of them were incapable of speech) and the two brothers had little problem incapacitating and disposing of them. THIS was the way it was supposed to be, Dean reflected. Him and Sammy - the two of them against the world - hacking their way through foes with nothing but a black-and-white case to work on. God sometimes he missed the good old days!

The last demon fell with a muffled shriek and the usual burst of static-y, orange sparks. Dean paused to wipe the demon blade off on his jeans and grinned grimly at Sam. "So, where to next?"

They had a baby brother to rescue and a slimy, demonic son of a bitch to teach a painful lesson to.

It was fairly obvious where Adam was being held. Sam and Dean had systematically cleaned out the entire downstairs of the house and the stairs to the upper levels were no more (Dean was pretty sure termites had destroyed them) so there was only the basement left to check and, now that there was no ganking to focus on, they could _hear_ the tell-tales sounds of someone being tortured.

The pained grunts.

The gasping sobs.

The soft, half-muffled whimpers.

Oh God. The demons were torturing Adam. The demons were torturing their little brother.

Dean closed his eyes, every fibre of his body telling him to burst into that room guns blazing. But instead he and Sam crept feather-light down the stairs and pressed themselves against the wall to scope everything out. Just because it was Adam they were going after and just because everything had, thus far, gone rather smoothly didn't mean that they could afford to get sloppy. If this was screwed up then they could all be in BIG trouble.

So, cringing and growing more angry by the second, Sam and Dean crouched in the shadows and readied their weapons and themselves, listening and trying to assess the situation.

Around the corner in the basement Adam chuckled hoarsely and said. "Has anyone ever told you that your name sounds like Doggie-B-Gone?" There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh and he grunted. "Geeze. Temper, temper...ow! You MUST be running out of ideas! Can't we just get the sacrifice over with so we can go out for drinks?"

Well if the kid was still coherent enough snark at his captors, then that was a good sign. Dean had been half-afraid that they would find Adam shaking and screaming in a corner, utterly useless to help himself out and just as messed up as that fight in the graveyard just a month ago. Maybe, if they could get him loose and get a knife in his hand, he could take care of keeping himself out of a hostage situation.

There was the sound of steel rasping against steel as something was unsheathed.

"Hey, now." Adam's voice was trembling even as he sneered. "Where d'you think you're going to stick that?"

Dean could take it no longer. With a mighty roar he leaped around the corner, blade at the ready, with Sam following close behind.


	18. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

.

* * *

><p>Abaddon was waiting for them and turned around with a wide smile as they burst in to the room. "Well hello, boys." She said, red lips stretching into a mockery of a smile. "I was wondering when you'd turn up." A couple of demons came out of the shadows and Sam, with a mental facepalm, recognised one of the bridge players from earlier. Damn it! Clearly they'd missed someone!<p>

"How did you know we were here?" Dean asked.

"Oh. A little bird told me."

The 'little bird' clamped one hand down on Sam's shoulder, putting him into a wristlock and smiling as he struggled. Dean was in a similar position as he was forced down to his knees by two of the demons. Both of their weapons were forcibly removed from their hands and kicked across the floor.

"Hey, bros." Adam said from where he was strapped to the table. "Nice rescue effort. A+. Bernard and Bianca couldn't have done better."

Before Dean could ask who in the HELL 'Bernard and Bianca' were, Abaddon silenced Adam by stuffing a very nasty-looking rag into his mouth and dumping something that smelled like vinegar over his arm, making him choke on a muffled shriek.

Beside Dean, Sam growled low in his throat.

Dean's eyes fixed on her hands that were now holding a bloody bowl (hands that were coated in Adam's - in his BROTHER'S - blood) and glared. How DARE she? All he was trying to do was to keep his family safe and healthy and together so that they could hopefully keep the entire world from going to Hell...was it too much to ask for the damn Knight of Hell to keep her damn mitts off?!

He said as much too (though not in such gooey, mushy terms) and Abaddon broke into a spell of laughter that probably killed some innocent lambs a few miles away.

Dean took advantage of her distraction and shifted his position into a more solid stance. Beside him he felt Sam do the same and felt a small amount of comfort in the fact that they were on the same page.

Abaddon was still talking. "I really must thank you for joining the ceremony." She said. "Usually we would prefer to conduct these things in slightly more glamorous surroundings - " Here she gave a disdainful look to the dust and clutter of the un-white-washed-for-God-knows-how-long basement, " - but desperate times call for desperate measures."

Sam laughed hollowly. "You must be desperate if you're working with bottom-of-the-barrel scum like these." He gave a jerk of his head to the demon holding his shoulder hostage (short, stocky, dressed like a Salvation Army rag bag) and it made a hissing sound that only confirmed his original assessment that these demons were extremely low level on the foodchain.

It retaliated by yanking Sam's wrist up painfully and nearly putting him off balance.

Abaddon looked amused. "Don't think that just because I didn't sacrifice my best and brightest to those pretty little blades you carry that I am without followers." She said, dipping her fingers into the bowl and using the bloody mixture to paint symbols on the side of the table. "But tonight is not about waging war and conquering millions. Tonight is about gathering the means for revenge." She licked her pointer finger clean and poked the rag back into Adam's mouth from where he had been in the process of spitting it out.

He said something around the cloth that most certainly was highly rude and was rewarded for it with another splash of the burning vinegar to his cut up arm.

"You are a bad boy!" Abaddon scolded. "With a mouth that filthy it's a wonder an angel was willing to enter in."

Adam glared.

Dean exchanged a look with Sam who subtly nodded. While the Knight of Hell was preoccupied with tearing Adam a new one (poor kid) Dean shifted his stance again and suddenly rolled forward, yanking free of the grip of one demon and propelling the other one over his shoulder and into the wall and he jumped back to his feet and threw holy water onto the three that were now swarming Sam.

After a lot of hissing and cursing and smoking and knees planted in places that they had no business being, Dean had managed to knock Abaddon away from his youngest brother while also backing Sammy up in giving these sons of bitches the beating of a lifetime. God he hated demons!

* * *

><p>It didn't go quite the way Dean had envisioned. Granted a brawl never went the way you wanted it to (that's why it would be called a brawl and not a choreographed battle) but fighting demons always added another level of unpredictability to it. You never know what you were going to get and, just to make it harder, demons are tougher and significantly more resilient than your average, every day fugly. Like you can strangle and punch a demon until your knuckles bleed and your arm falls off, but unless you're wearing a consecrated iron ring it's only going to hurt the host.<p>

They're also wicked strong and, depending on their level, can possess telekinesis and the ability to rip you up inside without ever dirtying their suits. Fighting demons is dangerous...especially whenever a person is outnumbered.

Dean and Sam managed to hold their own fairly well, Sam managing to pick up the angel blade again and stab one of the demons through the throat with it. Dean fought to get back to his knife, but was always pulled away by the force of the creatures he was fighting and so made due with fists and feet.

A scream from Adam made Sam snarl and release the demon he had in a headlock to tackle Abaddon to the ground. They skidded across the floor away from Adam, landing in a heap of hair and limbs.

For a moment Dean couldn't breath as the remaining demons dog-piled him (Oh the indignity!) and he could only lay there gasping and listening to the sound of Sam and Abaddon going at it. Then his view was cleared just in time for him to see the she-demon grasp Sam by his hair (he had TOLD the silly sasquatch that it was time for trim) and fling him across the room where he hit the cement wall with a sickening crack and slid down limply.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled and went mad, throwing demons off of himself as he kicked and punched and bit - spitting out more than one mouthful of sulphur-y blood.

Too late, though, did he manage to get free as Abaddon was there, trapping his wrists in one hand and grabbing a handful of hair with the other. "You Winchesters are nothing but trouble." She hissed, yanking him to his knees.

Two of the demons lesser-bruised by Dean's attack advanced on Sam where he lay sprawled against the wall, their eyes pitch-black as night and faces lusting for blood.

"Come on, Sammy, get up!" Dean pleaded through clenched teeth as Abaddon wrenched his arms painfully behind his back. "You've got to get up." Sam didn't move. A thin trickle of blood came from his nose and he seemed to be scarcely breathing. "Wake up, Sammy. It's just a flesh wound. We've had worse...gah!" Dean fell to his knees in pain as his left shoulder slipped out of its socket with an agonising jerk. "YOU BITCH!"

He was rewarded with a sharp tug to his hair. ''You will address the Queen of Hell with respect."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you watch while my followers skin your brothers inch-by-inch."

Dean shut his mouth.

"Put him on the alter next to his brother." Abaddon said to the two demons attempting to haul Sam upright (they weren't having much luck...Sam was a big guy and, as Dean knew from personal experience, like trying to wrestle a Giant Pacific Octopus while unconscious and deadweight). "He spent time in the Cage with the archangels as well and he is the vessel of our Father. We may yet be able to extract some Grace from him."

Muttering curses, Dean struggled against the vice-like grip Abaddon had on his arms and hair...ignoring the pain from his shoulder and the way her nails dug into his scalp. "C'mon, Sam." He said softly as the two demons called one of their buddies over to help them heave the distressingly limp form of Sam up onto the make-shift alter and stretch him out next to Adam who was struggling against his bonds and looking, quite frankly, mad enough to spit ink.

Dean was encouraged to see that the kid still wasn't eyeball-deep in panic or another flashback. If he just kept up the adrenaline from that anger maybe they could all (possibly) get out of here more-or-less in one piece. But first Sam had to wake up and do his part. Dean couldn't possibly take on five demons _and _the freaking Queen/Knight of Hell all by himself with a dislocated shoulder.

"Tie him down too." Abaddon ordered. "We don't want him getting loose. After the ceremony is complete, you can have this one - " She yanked on Dean's abused arm again " - for a bit of sport. I hear he's quite the screamer."

It was like an Austin Powers villains convention what with all the cackling and rubbing hands together that the demons did then. Dean rolled his eyes and bit his lip. How much more cliché could they get?

And how the Hell was he to get out of this one? He was two brothers and one arm down and surrounded by demons. Damn sometimes being a Winchester sucked!

* * *

><p>"Why are you doing this, bitch?"<p>

"Oh you poor little human fools." The Knight of Hell sighed. "You pitiful things with your limited imagination. Don't you know how valuable that blood you have is?"

"Uh, yeah. I kind of get dizzy whenever I've lost a bunch, so I figured it's pretty important."

Another yank to his hair. "No, no. I'm not talking about blood, I'm talking about bloodlines. Do you know how possession works, Dean Winchester?"

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. A bunch of icky, black smoke rams itself down some poor bastard's throat in a frankly pervy manner and takes control of his meatsuit until someone exorcises it. What's there to know?"

"When a demon possesses a human body it takes over everything. The eyes, the lips, the stomach, the tongue, and even the very blood itself. We become one with our hosts and touch every inch of them. The same is true of angels." Dean shifted uncomfortably. "And when an angel vacates its vessel, it leaves behind a calling card. Grace. The essence of what makes an angel an angel." Abaddon sighed and ran a hand thoughtfully through Dean's hair, making his skin crawl. "We have long pondered the ramifications of this phenomena, just as we have long wondered just what it is that makes a vessel a vessel. Demons can take what they please and go where they will, but angels require their vessels to give consent. Demons also do not have to worry about overpowering their hosts while an angel, if it should take the wrong vessel, cannot be contained by the fragile human body."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Old news. Still don't see what it has to do with us, so why don't we just call it square and go our separate ways?"

"Not so fast. Do you really think I'm stupid? I have the Vessel of Satan, the Michael Sword, and the Bastard Child at my mercy...why would I pass up this opportunity to see just what it takes to contain the power and might of an archangel of all things?" She nodded at one of her slightly-less-brainless-looking lackeys. "Prepare the alter." She commanded. "We will extract the Grace of our Unholy Father and his brother from their bodies, and then we will decide what to do then."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed. They were SO SCREWED!

"My demons failed to bring your youngest brother to me when they found him in the Graveyard of the Hellgate." Abaddon said as her followers lit candles. "But it all worked out for the best in the end. Now I have all three of you and - "

She was cut off whenever one of the demons let out a shriek.

Dean looked over to see Sam's eyes open, flashing a brilliant blue as the ropes holding him snapped and Ezekiel sat up, laying a hand on the demon's forehead and smiting it in a burst of pure light. It was terrible, it was wonderful, it was a relief. Finally!

All Dean could do was watch in awe as a light built up around Sam's body and the silhouettes of two bedraggled wings stretched out from his back as Zeke took full control and slammed another two demons into the ground.

"Angel!" Abaddon whispered and Dean took advantage of her distraction to knock her into the ground and roll out of the way (shoulder hurting like hell...all the puns in the world intended) and grab up the knife that had once belonged to Ruby. While Zeke was concentrating on eradicating the fourth demon, Dean threw the knife as hard as he could and felt a sense of satisfaction when it buried itself deep in the spine of the last one and killed it in a burst of sparks.

He wheeled around as Abaddon screamed _"NO!" _just in time to see her vanish into thin air, teleporting away from Zeke's approach. Dean blinked, didn't miss a beat, and took a quick stock of the basement. Six demons dead - one at Sam's hands, one at his, and four smote rather spectacularly by a vengeful angel who had finally decided to come out of hibernation in time to save their asses.

"What took you so long, Zeke?" Dean demanded as he retrieved the demon knife from the corpse.

The angel looked annoyed. "Perhaps you would have preferred that I had left the skull fracture un-knitted and paraded your brother's body around with a broken head and a cracked spine?"

An icy chill started in Dean's stomach and raced up his back to choke him. "What? N-no. That's not right. Sammy's been flung around dozens of times before and he's always shaken it off. Stop blowing things out of proportion."

"It only takes once, Dean." Ezekiel's tone was rather flat, as usual. "You are fortunate that I was able to triage and heal the damage so quickly."

There was a choking sound and Dean and Ezekiel both wheeled around to see Adam, still bound to the table, staring at them with wide, horrified eyes. He had spit out the gag and for a moment they just stared at each other, Dean's stomach dropping down to his heels, before the angel wearing Sam stepped towards Adam and raised two fingers.

"No, no, please!" Adam begged, shrinking away as well as he was able and turning pleading eyes to Dean. "Dean! Please don't!"

Dean cringed and looked away. He couldn't watch.

"Deean!"


	19. Thou Shalt Not Lie

.

* * *

><p>"I have put him to sleep." Ezekiel said solemnly, removing his fingers from Adam's forehead as the young man finally stopped struggling and went limp. "He should not remember a thing whenever he wakes up."<p>

"Damn you." Dean said softly.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're a right bastard, you know that?"

The angel arranged Sam's features into a frown. "I fail to see how that would be possible." He said, looking genuinely puzzled. "I am a created celestial wavelength of intent, not a born creature like you humans are. How can I be illegitimate?"

"Ugh. Never mind." Dean threw his hands up in disgust. "So, thanks for saving Sam's neck (literally) and all, but when are you going to let him come back? If you keep on taking over for lots of time like this he's definitely going to suspect something is up. He almost went spare when you wiped his memory about the cereal the other day...what _was _that all about?"

"Sam began to suspect me. I was forced to take drastic steps to erase the evidence. He is not yet strong enough to handle my expulsion."

"Drastic steps?"

Ezekiel nodded. "I cleansed his memories again and destroyed the device showing the presence of angels, including myself."

Dean's eyes widened in horror. "You destroyed Charlie's iPad?" He groaned.

"Yes."

"Oh _no_."

Ezekiel walked Sam's body over to the wall while Dean was envisioning the torments that Charlie would lay on them for ruining her beloved iPad and (somewhat less awkwardly than usual) laid it down. A flash of blue from the eyes and Sam was back groaning and gingerly rolling over. "Dean?" He called hoarsely, looking around wildly for Abaddon. "Dean? What happened?"

"Whoa, easy there, Sasquatch!" Dean flew across the basement and hooked an arm around Sam's shoulders, steadying him as Sam wobbled to his feet. "What do you remember?"

"I...is Adam okay?"

Dean pushed Sam back down into a sitting position. "Dude! Relax! The kid's fine. He's just...passed out at the moment."

"And the demons?"

"Gone. Most of 'em are dead, but Queen Bitch ran like the little scaredy-cat she is. Damn her." Sam groaned, raking his fingers through his hair, and Dean's fingers tightened on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was just in a brawl and flung against a wall by a Goddamn angry, bitchy concoction of Hell?"

"Yeah. You'll be fine." Dean clapped Sam on the back and got to his feet. "C'mon. Let's blow this joint before we get caught red-handed. I'll get Adam if you get the knives." With a couple more groans (and quite a bit of grimacing and rubbing his head) Sam clambered to his feet and collected their weaponry while Dean slipped his arm under Adam's limp form and, with Sam's assistance, lifted him up with a grunt, slinging him over his good shoulder in a fireman's hold. "Geeze, kid." He said, "We've got to start making you drink protein shakes or something."

"Ready?" Sam asked, starting for the stairs.

"Yeah. Let's get the hell out of here. It's been a bad night." Dean glanced at Sam. "You can have first shower whenever we get back to the motel. I think there's some demon guts in your hair."

"Peachy."

* * *

><p>"Dean? Why are there rope burns on my chest?" Sam appeared, shirtless in the bathroom doorway, rubbing at the raw marks left by the ropes that Abaddon's goons had bound him with and Zeke had snapped through.<p>

Oh crap. Why hadn't that holy lurker healed those weals? Was he wiped out from taking care of Sam's head/neck and smiting a bunch of black smoke goons? "Um. I don't know, Sam. Have you been sneaking off for a night of BDSM with some hot chick in town that I don't know about?"

Sam wrinkled his nose. "_No_, Dean." He said shortly. "But if I had, do you really think I'd be asking YOU about the marks left?"

"'Spose not."

"Except I don't remember how I got these and I sure as hell know that I didn't have them before we started this whole mess. So what happened, Dean? Did I lose time again?" Sam was chewing on a hangnail again, looking slightly scared and very much bewildered.

Dean laughed nervously. "Sammy. You've got to realise that you hit that wall pretty damn hard.' He said. "Headfirst too and, I get that you have a thick skull, but that had to have scrambled your eggs at least a bit. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you have a concussion and - "

"Don't...don't lie to me, Dean." Sam pleaded, hurt puppy-dog eyes on full-force. "Please. You promised that we wouldn't be lying to each other any-more!"

"I - I'm not, Sam." That tasted sour on his tongue.

Clearly it sounded off to Sam too because he sagged against the doorway and his face closed off slightly. "Right. Yeah. I get it." He said softly, sounding entirely spent and crushed. "Say no more, Dean. Just...just could you please tell me soon? Before it comes back to bite us in the ass?"

Dean looked at his brother...his brave little brother who had been through so much and yet still had a soul that shone so brilliantly that it had hurt Ezekiel's eyes. He remembered a crying baby thrust into his arms and the heat of hellfire at his back as he ran from a house. He remembered a young kid smiling wearily as he fought to keep both his hunting life and his studies afloat. He remembered a teenager breaking down in tears on the silent ride to the bus stop and clinging desperately to his big brother's jacket before boarding the bus to Stanford University. He looked at Sam and he saw the young man who had dropped out of law school to avenge his girlfriend and find his father. He saw the hunter who sinned and atoned for it again and again by beating the freaking DEVIL himself and dragging Lucifer back into Hell with him. He saw the kid, his kid, who had stood in an dilapidated church, sweating, skinny, dying, and declared - those same eyes bright with fever and with tears - that his greatest regret in life was all the times he had let Dean down. Dean remembered how Sam had sunk into his arms with the weight of years of torment and guilt leaving him nearly boneless as he at last let it all go...trusting his big brother to make it all better.

And Dean had tried. Oh God had he tried! He had taken Sam, shaking and whimpering with pain, and driven him away from that same church, whispering a mantra of promises to, _"Just hang in there, Sammy. Hang in there. We'll fix it. Together. Just breath, little brother. Just keep breathing, that's it, good for you. Breath. It'll get better. You'll be fine. Just breath." _

Sam had held on. His lungs were being shredded from within and the warning about having your spine pulled out through your mouth for all eternity had been an understatement, but he had held on. Eyes fixed on Dean and breaths mirroring his brother's, Sam had held out until they reached the nearest hospital and he had squeezed Dean's hand in an utterly GIRLY display of affection before submitting at last to sweet oblivion and drifting away entirely.

That same man Dean had sworn to, in the nightmarish car trip from church to ER, grant a clean slate if he would only get better. A clean slate with no more lies, no more baggage, just the two of them against the rest of the world the way things had been when they were younger and still had most of their innocence.

It was a promise he had broken and, while Dean would never regret pulling Sam back from the brink of death, he would forever be haunted by the betrayed look in those big, hazel eyes and the knowledge that, after all they had been through and had promised, he was the one that had put it there.


	20. Millstone Around Your Neck

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><p>It was three-o-clock in the afternoon and Dean sat at the scratched motel desk, nursing a bottle of Jack and staring at his brothers who were both dead to the world and deep in the clutches of dreamland. Adam was drooling into his pillow and Sam was just a tousled mop of hair above the coverlets. They looked peaceful, for the moment, and Dean found himself wishing that he too could be oblivious in sleep.<p>

But there was too much turmoil, adrenaline, and alcohol in his system right now for that to be possible. He wasn't like Sam who, after all these years, was still doing karaoke or crying (depending on the situation) after a ridiculously short amount of time drinking and then passed out as soon as he was within range of a bed. Dean had FAR too much on his mind for there to be a snowball's chance in HELL of that happening.

Speaking of Hell...what the hell was he going to do?

Sam snuffled, rolling over in bed slightly, and Dean took another pull of whiskey, squeezing his eyes shut against the burn. How had everything gone south so fast? Coming on this hunt had been a very, VERY bad idea...no matter how much was owed to Cas.

Months. MONTHS of work and promises and bonding smashed underfoot in an instant because now Sam knew. He _knew _that something wasn't right. He _knew _that Dean was lying to him again. And, worst of all, he had accepted that once-again a clean slate was just another fantastical lie and those broad shoulders were curled in on themselves again and Sam just looked so, so tired and weary of it all. It was a look Dean had seen before and a look that he had hoped to never see again. It was Sam's 'I'm slowly closing myself off from you so that I can keep on going, even when you hurt me' look and...and he could only hope that Zeke would finish soon so that this whole damn charade could be over. Because he hated every single friggan' second of it.

Dean knew he hadn't always been the perfect big brother. Hell, he was quite sure he wouldn't even make the top ten. He had abandoned Sam at a fast food joint more than once or at their motel whenever he was likely to get lucky with some chick. He had taken the last slice of pizza and punched Sam whenever he protested. He hadn't been there to hug Sam after a nightmare and wipe the tears away...hell no! Not after Sam was six! Why would he? He was Sam's brother, not his mother, and the way they grew up they had to grow up tough. Not that he didn't try to make things better in any way he could on the rare occasions that Sam actually came to him with something, but they just weren't a touchy-feeling type of family. Ever. Hugs were reserved for near-death experiences (or, at this point in their lives, resurrection experiences) and Dean knew that over the years he had piled more than a bit of crap on Sam's shoulders.

Like after their Dad died and Dean had been so wrapped up in his own guilt and issues that he had forgotten that Sam was grieving too. Or how about the fact that Dean couldn't last a week with Sam dead, but expected his brother to do the same? Then there was the terrible time that Dean came back from Hell and had his head so far up his own ass and his mind so scrambled by night-terrors and angels that he pushed Sam ever further down the path of darkness and pulled so far away that, after Lucifer was raised, Sam actually spent close to three weeks flinching and expecting Dean to kill him in what little sleep he got.

Oh yes. Dean was just a _wonderful_ big brother. Ha! He was so perfect he had even forgotten that one brother was locked away with two angry archangels in the depths of the Pit and then pushed the other brother until Sam felt that friggan' _dying _would be preferable to 'disappointing Dean'._  
><em>

A rough sob caught in Dean's throat and he took a swig of whiskey. God he was a mess! How had things managed to go so wrong? Could their family never catch a damn break before the next wave tore them apart and broke them in so many ways? How was he to keep them afloat? He wasn't a saint. He knew that. "Righteous Man, my ass." He muttered miserably. "Fine job you're doing of that, Dean Winchester. Just peachy."

There was a snort from Adam who sat bolt upright and blinked sleepily. "Dean?" He rasped hoarsely. "What's up?"

Dean swallowed another mouthful of Hunter's Comfort. "Nothing, Adam. Go back to sleep."

"Okay." The kid was dead to the world again within a second and Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. By the time he and Sam had found Adam, fought Abaddon, and then properly disposed (salt-and-burnt) the house day was breaking and they had all been up for nearly 24 hours. They raced back to their motel in the stolen jeep (Adam waking up en-route and nearly hyperventilating at waking up in a strange vehicle) where they performed some emergency triage (and Dean broke his middle little brother's heart again) before Sam and Adam collapsed into bed for some much-needed sleep and Dean took up his Jack vigil all alone.

What was he going to do about Sam? And Ezekiel? He hated keeping secrets from Sam. He hated it from the moment Zeke told him that Sam would need to be possessed for the healing to work. But the big brother in him that had taken the last piece of chocolate and the big brother who had sold his soul to Hell hadn't been willing to let Sam just slip away to parts unknown. Not with what he knew about all the afterlife options. No way. If there was even the SLIGHTEST chance that Sam could end up either in Hell again or in a ruined, dick-run version of Heaven...Dean was having none of it.

He just wished it hadn't required him to entirely null and void the pledge he had made to Sammy. Because that wasn't worth it.

Dean jumped as the muffled sounds of Smoke on the Water sounded out and, with a guilty look at his brothers, he grabbed his phone and stumbled his way outside of the hotel room to answer it.

"Dean? What happened? Are you all okay?"

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><p><strong>Please do read and review! :)<strong>


	21. Paved With Good Intentions

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><p>"Hey, Cas." Dean sighed, scrubbing at his bleary, itchy eyes. "What's up?"<p>

"Did you finish the hunt? Are you all well?"

"We'll go after Ephraim tomorrow, Cas. And yes, we're all more-or-less fine. We got Adam back in one piece before they tortured him too much, but the kid is pretty banged up and a bit spooked, I think." Dean glanced back through the window. "He's sleeping now. Sam too. They're pretty conked out."

"And how about you?" Castiel asked. "Are you all right, Dean?"

Dean huffed out a laugh. "Depending on what you define 'all right' as, yeah. I'm just dandy."

"I don't understand."

"Hell, Cas. I really screwed up this time."

"What do you mean 'this time'?"

"Not. Helping."

Cas sighed. "You misinterpret my meaning, Dean. What is it that you say that 'this time' you have screwed up so terribly about? You've sinned and fallen before. There is always forgiveness and penance."

"I let an angel into Sam."

There was a silence on the end of the line so thick and heavy that Dean wondered momentarily if Cas had vanished altogether before, "What?!" The ex-angel growled in a low, warning tone.

Dean swallowed. There was nothing for it now. "I let an angel into Sam."

"How?" Something scraped on the other end of the line like Castiel was sitting down. "How did you do that?"

"It's...it's kind of a long story, Cas."

"Well I have forty-five minutes for a 'lunch break' and I believe I may be able to eat jerky and listen at the same time. Tell me what happened."

"It's all a mess. Sammy...Sam was really screwed up by those Trials. He was dying, Cas, and I prayed to you. But I know you couldn't hear me. So I sent out a general call to all angels in the vicinity. I told them that I'd help them in any way possible if they'd only come and help out Sam."

"That was very foolish, Dean. What if the spell had not only thrown angels out of Heaven and slammed the Pearly Gates? What if it had ejected all angels - and archangels - onto Earth as well? And what if an unfriendly angel answered the call?"

"God help me, Cas, I know that. But you weren't answering and the doctors were starting to talk about grief counselling and pulling the plug and...and I was desperate. Sammy was dying. So I sent out a call and an angel responded. He said his name was Ezekiel - "

"Ezekiel?" Cas interrupted, suddenly sounding very much on the alert. "Did you say Ezekiel?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Castiel sighed. "Because I had thought that brother to be long dead. Perished in the killings by Uriel."

Now _Dean _was on the alert. "Are you sure, Cas?" He asked, feeling the whiskey go cold inside his stomach. "If it isn't Ezekiel and I've stuffed some lying son of a bitch down my brother's throat I'm going to go hunt down a tub of holy oil and that exorcism Alistair was going to use on you and not stop until the bastard is dead...so are you sure?"

"No. I'm not sure." Castiel made no comment on Dean's threat, perhaps thinking it fitting or just not surprised. "I had thought Balthazar to be dead as well, but as you well know he was not. Many of my brothers fled from Heaven during the Apocalypse. Not all of them believed that Michael was doing right, but we knew better than to speak our minds. Ezekiel may yet be alive and, if he is, then I will say that you are very fortunate that he was the one to answer your call. He is a good soldier and a compassionate healer."

Dean relaxed. "Yeah, well. I hope he's a good one because he's inside Sam right now."

"Sam is an angel?"

"No. Sam has an angel inside of him. Ezekiel's just healing him from the inside. Sam's the one in control, though. It's more of a sharing space than a possession."

"Interesting. Does Sam know?"

"Hell NO!" Dean said, clenching his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. "After what happened with Lucifer and, before that, with Meg, do you really think that Sam would ever say 'Yes' to having someone hitch a ride in that grapefruit of his again? No! We both know he wouldn't. But it was the only way so, God help me, I tricked him."

There a silence. "What?" The former angel asked quietly. "What did you do, Dean?"

"God don't make me say it again, Cas. I tricked my brother into letting one of your dick brothers in so that he could damn well be healed up from the inside. And if that's a sin and if it damns me...again, well, I'll just deal with that when it comes. God smite me, I couldn't watch my brother die again. Not this time."

"I do not think that God will smite you, Dean. For what, the crime of loving your brother?"

Dean laughed bitterly. "Wasn't much more than that as got Adam condemned to a private room with Lucifer and Michael for centuries."

"Dean. Your intentions in tricking Sam were noble. Pure, even. And while the road to Hell may be paved with good intentions, Father did not offer grace to humans because they were perfect. He who is sick does not require a doctor. But first of all you must repent."

"You sound like Pastor Jim. But, fine, everything is getting all screwed up. Sam thinks I don't trust him any more. How do I make it right?"

"Tell Sam the truth."

And didn't Castiel just make it all sound so _easy_! "Are you nuts? He'll have Zeke blasted out of there faster than he blasts after eating at Taco Bell!" In the back of his head, Dean registered that Castiel was covering an unusual and inappropriate snigger, but he ignored the angel-turned-cashier to keep talking. "Not only will Sam never forgive me (because I know, I KNOW that after Lucifer he would rather _die _than be used for an angel's puppet meatsuit again) but if he gets rid of Ezekiel, how in the hell am I supposed to get him better? He was dying, Cas. _Dying_! And now I've got Adam to look after so it isn't like I can trot off to a crossroads and make a deal to get him back. Hell! They'd probably just laugh in my face right now! Or worse!"_  
><em>

"So?"

"SO?!"

"Dean. I don't want Sam to die any more than you do. He's my friend. But have you stopped to consider that, if Sam were to die, his soul would be in Heaven?"

"Damn it all, Cas, I can't lose him! We were just starting to be brothers again!"

"Well then you have to ask yourself. Did you save Sam for himself? Or did you save him because you couldn't bear to lose him again?"

"I - " Dean opened his mouth, closed it, then sank down on the lid of a trashcan that bent ominously and put a hand over his eyes. "I don't even know any more. I'm so tired and sometimes I can't tell what is even right or wrong any more. It used to be so simple. We'd go and salt and burn a ghost or kill a monster and black-and-white, poof it was over. Now it feels like we're fighting and fighting and never winning and I just don't know what to do."

Cas sounded solemn as he replied gently. "If I have learned one thing from interacting with humans and with you Winchesters it is this: keeping secrets never ends well. Literally everything that has ever gone wrong between you and Sam has been, not because you are family or because of your situation, but because you have kept deadly secrets from each other. The Apocalypse was started because we angels pushed you two apart and because you kept secrets. And I, myself, know only too well how quickly these things can go all wrong. Stopping Raphael was the right thing to do. He was angry at the fall of his archangel brethren and he wanted mankind to pay. Killing him was the right thing to do - it was one life for billions. Where I went wrong was when I lied to you and to Sam and let that damned devil, Crowley, draw his little noose tighter and tighter. I may have fallen and become human because I foolishly trusted Metatron, but I think the day I truly fell was the day I broke Sam's wall because of the net of lies and secrets I had trapped myself in."

Dean sat silently for a moment, mulling over what Cas had said. He had forgotten that Castiel, for all the (former) angel could be a bit oblivious and simple at times, was still an ancient soul with moments of startling clarity and perception and he had a certain amount of wisdom as well. Add in a fall to being human that had obviously done Cas a bit of good in the sensitivity department and Dean realised that he had been given some truly excellent advice.

"So. What are you going to do?" Cas prodded quietly.

"I'm going to make things right." Feeling more alert (and aware that his bottom was sagging dangerously towards the garbage as the warped lid shuddered under his weight) Dean got to his feet and drew in a deep breath. "I'll find a way to tell Sam and...and I only hope that he can understand and forgive me. Because I don't regret saving him, but I wish it could have been done a different way."

"I'm sure Sam will forgive you. His soul is remarkable that way."

"Thanks, Cas."

* * *

><p><strong>Garth - <strong>

**Hey. It's Kevin. What's up?**

**So...I was wondering if you've got your houseboat fixed up and re-warded yet? No reason, really. I just...**

**I need to get away from the Winchesters NOW before I go insane. They've brought a little brother home and they're super busy with him and he's kind of rude (a real jerk, actually) and I can't concentrate on my work and NO I am NOT jealous! **

**I just need to get away. **

**So I was wondering if maybe I could come and live with you again? Crowley's locked up in Sam and Dean's basement, so it's not like I have to worry about him finding me or anything like that. But I've got to go before they drive me nuts or before I beat the King of Hell to a bloody pulp to work out the stress. Somehow I don't think that would end well.**

**Let me know a.s.a.p. either way.**

**Thanks,**

**Kevin**

* * *

><p>"So, Adam, how are you doing?"<p>

Adam jumped and looked wildly up from the magazine he was doodling in (writing another set of 'once upon a time...' lines from the look of it), relaxing slightly whenever he saw that it was just Sam. "Uh...what?"

"I said, how are you doing?"

"Oh, um, fine. I'm fine."

Sam looked at him searchingly, noting the dark rings under his eyes. "You sure?"

"YES, Sam, geeze! I'm FINE!" Adam snapped, slamming the magazine shut - it was an old car show flyer retrieved from under the Impala's seats, Sam noticed - in disgust. "Why does everybody keep on asking me that? I. Am Fine!"

Sam backed off. Obviously Adam wasn't fine (and had been quite a bit LESS fine ever since the Abaddon incident earlier that week) but pushing the matter right now wasn't going to help things. "Okay. You're fine. That's good."

They sat in silence for a minute before Adam spoke up. "Hey, Sam?" He said.

"Yeah?"

"What's up with Dean? He's been acting like a scorched iguana all week."

"A scorched...iguana?"

"Yeah." Adam flipped his pen up in the air and caught it a couple of times. "His eyes have been bulging a lot like he's about to puke and you two have been acting weird."

"O...kay." Sam shrugged. "Why d'you say we've been acting weird."

"Oh I don't know. Maybe because you keep giving Dean a look like he just kicked you in the balls? Or maybe because Dean keeps serving up what he claims are your favourite foods? Or how about the fact that you two have been avoiding each other like you both ate a vat of onions? Hmmm? I'm not stupid, y'know, and I do have a set of eyes."

Sam stared. "Okay, fine. You caught me." He said. "It is true that Dean and I are...kind of on the outs."

"So what crawled up your asses and bit you?"

"It's complicated."

"Well I've got nothing else to do except sit here counting the specks of dust on that bust of Cedric the Bald."

"See. Remember how I said that I went crazy for a while after...after downstairs?" Adam flinched, but nodded. "Well. I don't know what's happening, but I'm losing time again. It's really weird and Dean knows something he's not telling me - _again_ - and it almost feels like...feels like, um..."

"Feels like what, Sam?"

Sam chewed on his lip for a moment. "Well, a couple of years before the whole Apocalypse mess, we knew this demon called Meg. I don't know if that was her real name or not, but that's what we called her. Anyway...she caught up to me while I was getting coffee one day and she possessed me."

"Poor girl, getting inside your head like that." Sam looked sharply at Adam but, despite the sarcastic remark, Adam's look was understanding and even sympathetic.

"Yeah." Sam snorted. "I didn't know what had happened. She kept repressing the memories of everything I did while I was possessed. I woke up about a week later in a motel room with blood all over my clothes and no recollection of how I got there. So I called Dean. The rest of it all is kind of a blur. But I know we found footage of me killing another hunter and...and from there I think Meg took over again until I woke up on Bobby's floor with a burnt arm and a nicotine craving."

"You do know that you're not the one who killed that hunter, right?"

Derailed for the moment, Sam frowned at his brother. "What?"

"You said, and I quote, _'...we found footage of me killing another hunter...' _but that's not quite true. It wasn't you. It was that Meg chick...demon...whatever."

"Yeah. I know." Adam raised an eyebrow and Sam glared. "Look. Are you going to listen to me or argue with me?"

His little brother raised both hands in surrender. "Fine, fine! You were saying?"

"Never mind. It's not important."

That earned him a glare from Adam. "You were saying that you feel like you did whenever Meg possessed you, right?"

"Yeah." Sam said and spluttered as Adam suddenly upended an entire flask of cold holy water over his head. "What the _hell_?"

Adam smirked. "Well I think we can safely say that you're not possessed by any damn demonic smoke." He said smugly. "If you were you'd be writhing on the floor and steaming right now."

"If I had been a demon you would be dead!"

"Nah. First off, if you can overpower ol' Lucy I'm quite sure you'd be a match for whatever black-eyed bitch climbed up inside of you this time. Secondly, there's a devil's trap engraved into the wood of the floor all over this place and you haven't gotten stuck yet. So why worry?"

"I...guess, yeah." Sam combed his wet hair back from his eyes vigorously and glared at Adam. "Don't ever do that again. That was _cold_!"

There was a snort from Adam. "Wimp."


	22. So Close And Yet So Far

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><p>"Hey, Sam?"<p>

"Yeah, Kevin?"

"Have you seen Dean?"

Sam looked up from his computer. "Um. I think he's in the kitchen. Why?"

The prophet shrugged. "No specific reason. Just wondering."

Out in the kitchen, Dean grimaced and bent over a faded, second-hand cookbook. He wasn't doing this for kicks. Not so long ago he had been making up Sam's favourites in order to coax his feverish not-so-little brother to eat, but now he was...well he definitely wasn't bribing Sam because Dean knew. He _knew _that the minute he let the angel out of the bag all hell was going to break loose.

He had betrayed Sam in just about the worst way possible and that wasn't going to be fixed with a couple of speciality salads, a manly hug, and a chick-flick moment.

But it was a start and it would give him a bit more time with his brother before it all came crumbling down...a bit of time to apologise to Sam for all the lies in the unspoken way they had for years. It always used to be they'd fight and not speak for a couple of days and then one person would extend the olive branch of apology by doing a laundry run or replacing the toothpaste before they were totally out or, in Sam's case, picking up a package of speciality doughnuts with cream filling. This was no different. Except now _Dean _could cook and make up what he KNEW were Sam's favourite foods as an apology.

He put his head into the fridge and got to work.

And that's what he did for the next half hour or so. At one point Kevin poked his head in long enough to say he was heading into town for a drink and dinner and, yes, he had a knife and some holy water with him and, yes, he was planning on Christo-ing anyone who looked at him funny (or prepared his food) and, yes, he would stab first and ask questions later if anything went south and then call Sam and Dean for backup. With that understood, Dean wished him well and waved him out with a stalk of celery.

Tuna salad was finished and set aside to let the celery and onions blend with the mayo a bit. Then Dean set about making some toast and cheese. Personally he couldn't really stand the stuff (fish was NOT on his 'yum' list unless it was breaded and covered in ketchup) but Sam seemed to enjoy it and, for all the other issues he'd been having, Adam didn't really seem to have a problem with chicken or fish. So that was definitely a go-to staple.

Besides. Add in a little bit of cheddar cheese and it wasn't _all _bad. There was even some coconut cream pie for dessert!

Adam wandered into the kitchen, picking up a carrot stick and chewing on it idly. "So." He said at last. "Are we having chicken again for supper?"

"Nope." Dean sliced up another carrot and reflected that he really needed to invest in a new chopping board. This wood one was getting splintery. "Tuna melt sandwiches. I hope you like onions."

His younger brother shrugged. "I don't really have an objection to them, just so long as you don't breath in my direction afterwards."

Dean looked sharply at Adam, noting the teasing smirk that almost hid the way his eyes were ringed with dark circles in a pale face and were darting to the knife Dean held every couple of seconds. He saw the way Adam's hands trembled as the kid twirled another carrot stick. Damn. Just another thing to fix! "How are you sleeping, Adam?"

No. He didn't imagine the nearly-imperceptible wince or the way Adam's face grimaced before closing off. "I'm fine." The kid said almost-nonchalantly. "Why do you ask?"

"Uh-huh." Adam's poker face was pretty good...but he had nothing on Sam. Or Cas. "Well forgive me for not buying it, but I'm not buying it."

Adam just gave him an annoyed look. "I didn't ask you to buy it, because I'm not selling anything. I'm fine."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Then explain to me why you're looking like an extra from a Tim Burton movie?"

"What?" There was a snort from Adam. "Dude! I was just _tortured _by Queen Ginger Leather Bitch herself earlier this week. I'm not exactly at my best...and have you seen Sam? I'm not the only banged-up one around here!"

"Right." He had a point, Dean had to admit. Sam did kind of look like crap. Just because Zeke had healed the messed-up head and spine didn't mean that Sam was bruise-free. Now they were fading into a sickly-yellowish green, but they were there. Adam was right: they all looked like crap, thanks to Abaddon. Dean looked at the kid. Adam was chewing on his lip and rubbing the knuckles on his hands. Dean sighed and let the matter drop. For now. "Fine, kid. I'll take your word for it."

Adam instantly relaxed and swiped another carrot stick. "So." He said again, chewing on it. "When are you going to tell Sam?"

Dean choked on the chunk of carrot he had just bit off. "_What_?"

"What's going on." Adam munched. "He says there's something you're not telling him. What is it? A girl?"

Oh as if...if only! "No. It's not a girl. Unless you count Samantha as one."

"So it's a secret about Sam? Huh. You'd better tell him soon."

Not for the first time did Dean question the hand of God in little, everyday 'coincidences'. (Hey. A man of his history and in his position had to keep an open mind or sink.) "I will, kid." He said. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh I wasn't worried." Adam denied, getting to his feet. "But if Sam chews his fingernails much more he's going to leave bloodstains on my laundry."

"Right. Well, neat-freak, how about you send Sammy in here. I need a hand with the food and, unless you want to slice up a tomato, I suggest you get him."

Adam looked at the knives and at the red vegetables (_Fruits_, Dean's inner-Sam insisted) and went rather green. "Nah." He said, back-peddling and heading for the door. "I'll just go let Sam know you're looking for him."

Dean went back to his carrots as Adam left the kitchen, checking on his grilled cheese that was just beginning to melt nicely into the browned bread and give off aromatic puffs of steam. Before he could pull them out, though, Sam strode in through the kitchen door. "Dean? What the hell?"

"Heya, Sam!"

"Christo."

Dean frowned at his sibling. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

Sam gave a wry grin. "Definitely you, though you had me wondering. What's going on, Dean. You NEVER ask for my help in the kitchen! You almost shot me in the foot whenever I messed with your cookbook stash the other day."

"It's not a cookbook stash."

"Yes it is. And I was just looking for the Latin name of rosemary. No need to go all Mortal Kombat on my ass."

"Right." Dean rolled his eyes and tossed a tomato at his brother. "Well now I'm asking for help. So chop, chop!"

Sam just raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, dude. What's going on?"

Well there was nothing for it. Now seemed as good a time as any...better to speak before he lost his nerve again. "Sammy, I...uh." Dean took a deep breath.

"What, Dean?"

"I've got something to tell you and I want you to listen very carefully and hear me out before you react, okay?"

Sam frowned. "Okay, Dean. I will. What is it?"

"Um...guys?" Adam poked his head in through the door, Dean's phone clamped in one hand. "There's somebody called 'Jody Mills' on the phone who's going to put a taser in my ass if one of you don't pick up right now and prove that I haven't kidnapped you and strung you up by the balls. Something about a case in Sioux Falls or something?"


	23. Setting The Board

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><p>"Sorry for the delay, Jody." Sam reached over in annoyance to turn down Dean's music as he spoke into his cellphone. "We kind of...got held up. Unexpected werewolf-thingy. No, no. We're all fine. Really. We're good."<p>

Dean glanced over. "What's she saying?"

"That we'd better be concentrating on the road. No, no...Jody! I was talking to my idiot older brother." Sam sighed. "Yeah. We'll watch out for deer. Where? Um...are you sure us showing up at the station is a good idea? No, no. Right. See you there." He hung up the phone and chucked it into the backseat where Adam ducked and it landed on his dufflebag. "Jody says that whenever we get to Sioux Falls we should just meet her at the police station."

"You really think that's wise?"

Sam shrugged. "It was Jody's idea. Besides...surely most of the residents remember the great Zombie Apocalypse of Sioux Falls? It's not like we're going to walk in there and get arrested or anything."

From the backseat Adam snorted. ''Arrested?" He said, sounding incredulous. "You're besties with a sheriff and you're still worried about being arrested?"

His brothers exchanged a look. "Long story, kid." Dean said at last, reaching over to turn the music back up to eardrum-destroying decibels, much to his brothers' disgust.

* * *

><p>"Hey, boys. Glad you could make it!" Jody grinned up at the Winchesters as they came into the station. "So. Who's the kid?" She thumbed outside the doors towards where Adam was leaning against the Impala and scowling. "He one of yours? Because, I have to say, the resemblance is uncanny."<p>

Dean spluttered a bit while Sam grinned. ''Nah. That's our brother, Adam."

"Huh." Jody peered at Adam once more and frowned. "I didn't know you had any other siblings."

"We didn't know either until about five years ago." Dean cut in, watching as Adam made a rather rude gesture to a group of wolf-whistling bikers and calculating whether or not the scowl was due to annoyance or to a headache. "Half-brother." He said, by way of explanation.

"Ah. Well, if you don't mind my saying so, you all look like crap. You boys been eating? And sleeping? Please tell me you haven't been living out of that car of yours."

"What? _No_!" Dean said. "We've actually got ourselves a place now."

"Good." Jody said firmly. "Because that kid looks like he's been through the meat grinder and you two aren't much better. It's about time you got yourself somewhere stable to sleep at night!"

Sam just shrugged. "The 'kid' is 19, Jody." He said.

Jodie raised an eyebrow. "You're all kids compared to me."

"HEY, ADAM!" Dean yelled, sticking his head out of the station and waving his brother over.

Adam shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and, slouching a fair bit, shuffled his way over to the station. "What?"

"Adam, meet Sheriff Jody Mills."

"Pleasure." Jody shook his hand and looked him up and down critically. "How are you?"

"Fine." Adam smiled tightly.

"Well then, gentlemen, let's get down to work. We can talk in the conference room in the back. This way, please."

* * *

><p>"So. What was all that about a werewolf case?" Jodie asked the brothers as she and Sam poured coffee and Dean went straight for the box of doughnuts.<p>

"Well," Dean said, mouth full. "As it turns out, Garth - "

"Wait...Garth?" Jody interrupted. "Skinny, fond of milkshakes, uses a sock puppet to talk to kids Garth?"

"Yeah." Dean raised an eyebrow. "You've met."

Jody nodded. "Yeah. Came up here a month or so ago, wanting to know if Singer Salvage was still here. Guess he wanted to pay his respects to...to Bobby or something."

Dean winced; Bobby was still a sensitive subject, even after all these years. "Yeah. He would. Anyway, Garth's found himself a little wife and a farm and I guess he's more-or-less out of the hunter game, though I think he's still manning the FBI phones. Hopefully nobody will find out about his little furry problem."

"What?"

"The dude's a werewolf." Dean stirred some sugar into his coffee.

Jody blinked in surprise. "So...there's werewolves too? Not just zombies and witches and demons but actual, proper, Michael J. Fox werewolves?"

Adam snorted darkly from his corner of the table. "Yeah." He said. "There's also angels and ghouls, just as a FYI."

"O...okay. I'll just deal with that as it comes. Anyway. I think I've found a case for you boys." The sheriff got out a file containing a couple of case notes and newspaper clippings. "Now, as you know, Sioux Falls is not exactly a stranger to supernatural issues. Aside from the small zombie apocalypse we had a few years back there's also been the odd haunting and Marcy Wade who _swears _that Bobby put a rabid monster through her woodchipper."

Sam grinned. "That sounds like Bobby all right."

"Hmmm. I'm not even going to ask. That's a cold case file and it's going to _stay _a cold case file. Anyway. We've had a terrible rash of deadly nightmares going on around here lately. Some serious _Nightmare on Elm Street_ issues."

"So everyone's been sniffing the ethanol fumes a bit too much. What makes you say it's something supernatural?"

"The fact that people are dying from the nightmares."

"Ah."

"We've had family after family struck by this curse. In fact, the Parker-James family lost their daughters just last night." Jody bit her lip and sighed. "It doesn't seem to have discernible pattern aside from the fact that it always goes after siblings. Which, granted, makes you tw-three targets. But you're the only hunters I know, so I had to call you."

"We'll be fine, Jody." Sam said. "Can you describe this 'curse' for us?"

She nodded. "From what we've been able to gather it starts with the victims experiencing nightmares. Then it progresses to a coma-like stage where the afflicted are trapped in their dreams and unable to escape. Usually death follows shortly after that...within 48 hours or so. The doctors are at a loss to explain what is causing it, but we do know that it works its way through families, typically children. And siblings. Always siblings."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Could be a shtriga."

"A what?"

"A shtriga. It's a type of witch-vampire hybrid. Sammy and I killed one a few years ago right after he left college, so if it is one we can definitely take it. But generally they don't give their victims nightmares before killing them."

"We definitely need to dig a little bit deeper into the evidence." Sam stood up. "Can we have access to your files, Sheriff?"

Jody waved a hand. "Please. What's mine is yours. Anything to stop that sucker from killing again. Though," She tipped her head to the side, thinking. "You may want to pull out the FBI suits. Just to keep things at least _appearing _official."

"Right."


	24. Nightmare On Vegan Street

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* * *

><p>Dean had a theory that 'woman's intuition' was a very real, tangible supernatural phenomena that not only made them scarily good at non-psychically predicting the future but also at picking up all sorts of weird-ass vibes from those around them. He couldn't prove the theory scientifically...but he didn't really need to with Sam riding shotgun beside him.<p>

His own, private feeling was that all guys give off some sort of ambiance that women picked up on and used to decide how to treat them (something Dean had once-or-twice wished he possessed whenever a bar bombshell turned him down for being 'rude') and for proof he needed to look no further than the different way that he and Sam were treated in their travels.

He himself knew that he gave off bad boy vibes. The muscle car, the worn jeans, the almost-military haircut that he'd had ever since he was five years old...it all rolled together with his sparkling wit (if he did say so himself) and his status as a lone drifter to scream 'exciting danger' at the ladies.

"I'm very sorry for you loss, Ms. Parker." Sam had the doe-eyes out in full force. Dean privately felt that he was going a bit far, but Ms. Parker was melting like an ice cube in Tampa, so he wasn't about to complain about his brother's tendency to lay on the sympathy rather thick. He was lean and mean and mysterious...and most of the girls he interacted with liked a bit of danger to spice up their lives. They were either looking for a weekend of fun or for a project to 'fix' and settled for him because he wasn't an abusive asshole like so many of his fellow dangerous men ended up being.

Sammy, on the other hand, gave off vibes that screamed out _MOTHER ME! _in capital letters for emphasis and seemed to attract plenty of young girls (and middle-aged women) who were more than happy to ply him with cookies and tea and answer every question that he put to them with those big puppy-dog eyes. (Hey. There was a reason Dean usually let him do the talking during home visits.) It was like these women could sense that he had never known his mother and were determined to smother him in enough matronly love to make up for it...even if the clueless idiot was oblivious to half of the adoring looks and sad smiles they sent his way. Usually he could have even the grumpiest old spinster wrapped around his little finger within moments of her opening up her door.

Dean didn't understand it. But he did see that it worked like magic every time (if it wasn't such a touchy subject, he would tease Sam about using his psychic powers on the witnesses) and, unlike Dean's prickly shell that warned off any attempts from well-meaning, would-be mothers, Sam drew them in like a moth to the flame. It was insane...and it worked.

Which was why Dean stepped back and let Sam take the lead whenever Ms. Parker (the matriarch of the Parker-James family) opened the door with red eyes and a decidedly sour expression on her face. "Yes? What may I do for you?"

"Special Agent Gowen, this is my partner, Special Agent Seger." Dean flashed his badge at her. "We just have a couple of questions for you

"My daughters died from heart failure, agents." Ms. Parker said coldly. "I don't see what good digging deeper and spending more of taxpayer's hard-earned money is going to do."

"We're really sorry, ma'am, honestly we are." That was Sam...puppy-dog eyes on full-throttle and laying the professional innocence on thick. "But this isn't the first time something like this has happened. There have been a couple of other cases with almost identical situations and the bureau finally gave us the 'Go' to investigate. I can't really say more, it's all very confidential, but we just need to ask you a couple of questions. If we can crack this case maybe we can stop it from happening to any other families." Dean could see Ms. Parker softening slightly and clearly Sam did too, because he went in for the kill. "It should only take a few minutes, Ms. Parker. We wouldn't be bothering you if there was any other way."

The grieving mother sighed and unlocked the screen door. "Very well. Come in and sit down. Can I get you something to drink? I was just about to have some tea..."

* * *

><p>"So the house is clean?" Sam asked as they drove off from Ms. Parker's.<p>

"Yeah. I did a basic sweep of the house while you were buttering her up with compliments about her baking - "

"The cookies were good!"

"Yeah. If you like eating gluten-free things that have been sterilised to the point of disappearing entirely."

"Vegan, not gluten-free, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's classic bitchface. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, hippie!" He turned left at the traffic light and stepped on the gas. "So, as I was saying, I did a basic sweep of the house. No EMF, no sulphur, and no hex bags. So at least we're not dealing with a nasty-ass witch. What did you find out?"

"Mr. James has a bad prostrate and that they went vegan to try and get rid of his kidney stones? Other than that, not much. Maisie and Beth were good girls, according to Ms. Parker (who, by the way, is their stepmom) and they were very quiet and even shy. Didn't go out much and certainly weren't involved in any kind of shady dealings."

"That stepmom knows about, that is." Dean said.

Sam sighed. "That is true. Did you get a chance to look at their room?"

"Yes. Unbearably frilly and pink - complete with pink, frilly nightlights installed on the pink, frilly bunkbed - and utterly normal. The weirdest thing I found was an anime-ish drawing of the Hobbit from Lost tacked up behind the door."

"Great. Back to square one." Sam loosened his tie and stretched his legs out far as they were able.

Dean's phone rang.

"Damn." He muttered. "It's in my pocket and we're coming up on an intersection. Get it, Sam?"

Sam shot him a rather disgusted look. "Dude. I am NOT reaching in your pocket for your phone. Answer it yourself."

Using a lot of squirming and maybe a couple of moves learned from Lisa (oh a lifetime ago!) Dean managed to hang onto the wheel and retrieve his cellphone from the depths of his pants pocket, cursing as it became tangled up. Why did these sort of things always happen to him?

"Hello? Agent Gowen speaking."

"Dean? Oh thank God!"

"Jody? What's going on?"

The sheriff breathed an audible sigh of relief. "It's your brother, Dean." She said, sounding very worried. "Does he...does he need seizure medication?"

Oh no. "Is he seizing, Jody?"

"No. Just...God. He was just standing there looking at my movie collection whenever he dropped. And now...it's like he's trapped in a waking nightmare."

Dean sighed. "Actually, that's pretty close to the truth. If he's not seizing, just turn him on his side so he doesn't choke if he pukes or something."

"All taken care of. I do know basic first aid, you know."

"Right. Listen, Jody. I'm going to give my phone to Sam. You hold your end down by Adam's ear and let us do the rest." Dean handed the phone over to Sam. "Adam. Flashback." He said grimly.

Sam's eyes widened and he snatched the phone. "Adam? Hey, Adam?" He said gently. "Hey, buddy, can you hear me?"

Dean turned back to the road and kept on driving, knuckles white around the steering wheel as he listened to Sam ramble into the phone and try to pull Adam back from whatever dark corner of Hell his mind had taken a detour into.

"Adam. Listen to me. You've got to listen. You're not in there with them any-more. We got you out. You're fine. Breath, Adam, listen to me. We've got you. You're safe. C'mon, buddy. Breath. You're doing fine."

Dean stomped down on the gas pedal.


	25. The Sheriff of Sioux Falls

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* * *

><p>The fifteen-minute drive from the Parker-James residence to Jody's house seemed like an eternity to Dean. Not that he was a stranger to desperate, tense car rides. When you're a Winchester they're practically old hat...but that didn't make it any easier to watch Sam, tense and worried, ramble into the phone in an effort to bring Adam back.<p>

"Adam? Listen to me. Adam. We're out. You're out. We're safe. We've got you. C'mon, buddy."

_Should it be taking this long? _Dean clutched the wheel and tried to coax his faithful Baby to go still faster. They needed to touch the kid. Needed to ground him in reality. Needed to be _there _instead of just trying to reach him over the cold phonelines. Damn it all!

"Adam? Hey. You with me?"

Dean strained his ears and heard some kind of garbled speech that made Sam close his eyes and slump back into his seat with a weary smile. "Just hang in there, Adam. We'll be back in a couple of minutes. You okay?"

* * *

><p>Jody had been in her bedroom changing out of her work uniform whenever it happened. By this point her house was overflowing with Winchesters (three of them...what the hell) and they had taken over both the guest room, the living room couch, and the dining room table with their blankets and laptops and goddamn Twinkie wrappers. Why had she insisted that they stay with her again? Her poor bathroom would never be the same!<p>

Still...she had asked them to come and check out this possible case and, judging by the look of them, they were doing her a HUGE favour by jumping in with both feet. She hadn't seen those boys (okay, fine, grown-ass men who just happened to be Bobby's boys) in months, but they looked like hell. Actual, literal hell. Dean was jumpy and cagey, Sam still looked rather sick and exhausted, and Adam...

Well Jody didn't know the youngest and newest Winchester very well, but she privately felt that he looked like a kicked puppy - the sort that would appear on the PETA commercials backed by Sarah McLachlan music and a close-to-tears narrator begging for someone to adopt him.

What had happened to them all?

Now Jody knew that it really wasn't any of her business. She was little more than an acquaintance to those hunters (even less than that to their new little brother) and they had only worked a couple of cases together, but she was also the person Bobby Singer had charged with looking after 'his boys' if he should die. She was the person Sam had run to, however briefly, after Dean had disappeared and Dick Roman been brought down. And, damn it all, she _cared_. Clearly they were all hurting in some way or the other and, while she couldn't just wave a magic wand and fix everything, the least she could do would be to offer some support, right?

Jody pulled a home blouse over her head and wondered if Sam and Dean were finished talking to the grieving Parker-James combined family yet. She supposed she should whip up something for supper and, running a hand through her hair, made her way back through her house towards the kitchen. "Hey, Adam." She said to the teen who was idly reading the names off the spines of her DVDs. "You, uh, you want to come give me a hand with supper?"

She wasn't entirely certain what happened then. Adam seemed to freeze for a second, mid-turn, eyes going wide with horror before he crumpled to the ground with a moan and seemed to slip into unconsciousness.

Thankfully he didn't hit his head off of anything on the way down and her living room carpet (the one that had been put in to replace the bloodstains that reminded her of her son and husband) was fairly thick, but Jody still winced as she jumped forward too late to catch Adam's head before it thunked off of the floor. "Crap." She muttered, fumbling at his neck for a pulse. His eyes were flicking underneath his eyelids and his heartbeat was galloping like he was running in the Olympics.

He thrashed once, weakly, and almost whimpered before going still again and gasping for breath.

Jody rolled him to his side and fumbled for a phone, punching in Dean's cell number with one hand while the other one supported Adam's head.

The next few minutes were spent praying under her breath while Sam spoke through the phone and somehow, miraculously, managed to pull his younger brother out of his (seizure? fainting spell? flashback? fit?) incident with his voice alone as, after those few tense minutes, Adam groaned and his eyes fluttered open with a _highly _rude word on his lips.

Jody glared at him, taking back her phone. "Watch your mouth in my house, young man, or I'll wash it out with soap."

He stared at her a moment, looking like a startled fawn, before he laughed bitterly and let his head fall back onto the carpet.

"Sam?" Jody spoke into the phone, getting to her feet and giving the young man some space. "What the hell was that?" She went into the kitchen, but not before she saw Adam grimace and blush before wobbling to his feet and going to burrow into the couch.

Sam sighed. "It's a long story, Jody." He said. "We'll be back in a couple of minutes. Just keep pens away from him for now, okay?"

That was a strange request. "He doesn't try to cut himself with them, does he?"

"Oh God, no! At least, not that we've ever caught him at. He does have a compulsion to write and write, though. Does it all the time and on any surface he can find...but it's a coping mechanism that kicks into overdrive after he's had a flashback."

"Flashback?" Jody frowned. "God, Sam. Does he have PTSD or something?"

There was a snort from Sam. "Don't we all?" He said in a bitter tone that sounded eerily like Adam. "Wouldn't surprise me a bit."

Jody winced as she heard the screech of tires. "Well. I'll let you go so you can concentrate on getting back here in once piece. You tell that brother of yours to drive safely, Sam."

"Will do. See you in about five."

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><p><strong>Thoughts? Please read and review! :)<strong>


	26. Hell's Bells

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><p>"Supper was lovely, thanks, Jody." Sam shot Dean the hairy eyeball as the eldest Winchester pushed back his plate with a clatter and a contented sigh. "What? It was sublime!"<p>

"Been reading that dictionary again, Dean?"

Dean pouted as Sam grinned smugly. "I read!"

Sam just smirked at the old joke and said. "It really was quite good, Jody. Thank you."

"Well I can't take all the credit." Jody stood up and started shifting her dishes to the sink. "You can thank your brother there for the cornbread. He's the one who gathered all the ingredients and whipped it up like a pro."

"Huh." Dean said, grinning and nudging Adam under the table. "Guess we know who's going to make someone a nice little wife one day, eh?"

"Shut up." Adam muttered, ears going red, though he seemed more pleased than put-out. Sam got to his feet and helped Jody gather up the dishes while Dean raised his bottle of beer to Adam mockingly.

"A toast to the cutest chef this side of Rachel Ray!" He said, taking a deep swig while Jody and Sam exchanged long-suffering looks. "So, squirt, where'd you learn to cook - "

"_Bake_."

"Fine, Julia Child, _bake _cornbread like that?"

Adam shrugged. "Well, I did a lot of cooking back before, um, the ghoul incident." He said, twisting his napkin in his hands. "Mom wasn't around much, y'know? She had to work. So I made myself dinner and set out the leftovers for her and then put myself to bed. Eventually I got tired of eating freezer-package meals, so I learned how to make some basic things. Came in handy while I was in college and is useful for picking up chicks."

There was an awkward moment before Dean cleared his throat and got to his feet, pulling Adam up and slinging a brotherly arm around his shoulders (Adam actually didn't flinch...probably because he had seen it coming) and pulling him towards the living room. "Well what d'you say you put that college-boy brain to good use while the girls clean up the kitchen." He winked at Jody. "And then next time I'm slaving away over making up some of Sammy's damn salads you can make yourself useful and work your magic. How does that sound?"

"You'd let me in your kitchen?"

"Sure! You're not like Sammy over there who once burnt water _and _the pan it was boiling in..."

The two of them walked off, Adam shoving at Dean half-heartedly and everything seemingly quiet and comfortable for the minute. Sam watched them go with a smile that seemed tinged with just a hair of sadness and Jody squirted some dish-soap out thoughtfully. "I'll wash, you dry." She said, rolling up her sleeves. "You can put away too. Somehow I think you'll be able to reach the top shelves easier than I can."

Sam caught the towel she threw at him with practised ease. "What do you want me to do with the leftovers?"

"Well there aren't a whole lot of them after you lot got done, so why not just throw everything but the cornbread into a container. Meat, mashed potatoes, corn, the works. We'll hide it from your brothers and then use it as a quick-and-easy shepherd's pie for breakfast."

"Right. Gotcha."

Jody plunged her hands into the soapy water and started scrubbing at the dishes while Sam put away the leftovers and munched on another square of Adam's cornbread before coming over to help her by drying the rinsed dishes. For a moment Jody almost felt like they were back nearly two years ago whenever Sam had stumbled into her house (after nearly wrapping that Impala around her mailbox) utterly wrecked and sobbing that Dean was dead. She still didn't know what had happened there - Sam hadn't given her details and had left shortly after that whenever they discovered that her neighbour was possessed and stalking them - but whatever it was it hadn't been good and, judging by the underlying tension that no amount of jibes could totally hide, the issues still hadn't been resolved. Whatever it was, Sam still seemed somehow miserable.

Jody took a deep breath. Sam was her friend and she had promised Bobby. She had to at least try. "You seem troubled, Sam. C'mon. What's up?"

The hunter blinked at her, pausing in his drying of a Mickey Mouse mug, and looking utterly caught off guard. "Sorry...what?"

"You heard me, Sam. What's up? You've been staring at Dean like he just kicked your pet turtle in the teeth almost constantly whenever you think he's not looking. I would tell you to go and hash it out with him...but I know how you boys are, so I'm asking you what's up?"

"I, um - "

"And don't tell me 'nothing'. I'm not asking for gory details, just some honesty."

Sam chuckled grimly. "Yeah, well. That's kind of the problem, I guess." He said softly. "I mean, this kind of thing has been happening to me. Like there are chunks of time just…missing. Like there are times when I'm…not here."

Jody frowned and handed over another plate to be wiped. "You mean you've been zoning out?"

Sam shrugged. "Sort of, maybe."

"Well then, it could be that you're not getting enough sleep." She smiled. "Do I have to pull out my 'mom voice'?"

That got a wry chuckle out of Sam as he dried a coffee mug. "No. I don't think that'll be necessary. Dean's got you covered what with the helicopter brother he's turned into over the past few months. Worse than usual."

The sheriff wrung out her dish-rag. "So you've actually been participating in that activity called shut-eye? Good." She pushed a cutting board at Sam to be dried. "So if it's not sleep deprivation, what do you think it is?"

"I don't know." Sam shrugged. "It's probably nothing, Jody. Just ignore me."

"Ah, ah, ah!" She waggled a soapy finger at him. "None of that, young man! I asked you a question and now I expect some answers so I can maybe help you figure things out. It's obviously eating at you, so go on. I promise not to laugh."

"Well, um, you remember the last time I came here?"

Did she ever! Sam had spent about a week camping out in her living room, surfing the Internet and researching tirelessly...scarcely even stopping to eat or to collapse for an hour or so of uneasy sleep...before he had run off after interrogating and exorcising the demon in her next-door neighbour. He had been a wreck in more ways than one and she still had the blood stain on her carpet from where he had torn through a scar on his hand once. "Yes." She said softly. "If you're feeling bad about that, Sam, don't. You've got nothing to feel guilty about."

He snorted like he didn't believe her, but put away the last glass and went on before she could hammer the point home. "Yeah. I was pretty messed up. More than usual. Did Bobby tell you about me going to Hell?"

"Yes." Jody couldn't help but feel a bit sick every time she thought about Sam burning for all of eternal damnation. "He mentioned it once whenever I caught him on a DUI."

Sam winced. "He always did drink too much."

Jody nodded. "So. What's this about you and Hell and losing time?"

"Well, Adam was there too. That's what his flashback earlier today was about - he just got out recently. He's doing really well, considering. Whenever I came out I had one foot in the loony bin and was tripping more than just hell's bells."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I was...hallucinating and all kinds of crap. I lost time and...and it feels like that's what is happening again. I keep waking up with weird bruises and with gaps of unexplained time and things moved around me and Dean knows something even though he says I'm okay."

"But it doesn't feel that way."

"No. It just feels like I can't do anything right." Sam leaned against the counter and crossed his arms defensively. "Dean's lying to me again, Jody, and it's all my fault. No wonder he doesn't trust me when everything I try I just screw up. "

"Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"It's all gone wrong. Ever since Dean came back from Hell we've been screwed...I've been screwing things up. I couldn't break Dean's deal. Four damn years at Stanford and I couldn't even find one loophole!" Jody looked at Sam and saw that he was a million miles away, rambling nervously, unseeingly, so she let him talk. "...and then I, of course, have to go trusting a freaking _demon _and making it so that Dean hated me and I started the damn APOCALYPSE and let Lucifer free and then when Cas pulled me out of Hell I came out without a soul and basically spent a year hurting Dean and Lisa and Ben and everyone around me. Then, just whenever Dean's having the worst year of his life, I have to start hallucinating and basically going crazy, putting still more crap on his shoulders and ruining everything. And then I didn't look for him while he was in Purgatory and he's always tried to bring me back, but last time I tried I ended up screwing everything up with Ruby, except it's like I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't and...and I'm just _tired _of it all, Jody." Sam slumped down, hunching his broad shoulders in protectively. "Sorry, sorry." He said, rubbing a hand over his face. "I, uh, I don't know why I said that. It's nothing."

"Didn't sound like nothing to me." Jody sat down at the island and leaned forward on her elbows. "Sounded to me like something that's been a long time coming."

Sam shrugged. "Still. Don't want to worry you. It's just my fault and I can deal with it."

The sheriff raised an eyebrow.

Around the corner in the hall, Dean swiped angrily at his eyes and slipped away.

* * *

><p><strong>Please read &amp; review!<strong>


	27. Temporary Truce & Brotherly Banter

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><p><em>It was too dark and too bright, too hot and too cold, too crowded and too lonely, too much all at once and too little. It left you feeling overstuffed and feeling starved. It was constant waiting and constant torment. Emptiness. Fire. Fear. Every nightmare you'd ever had, every piece of pain you'd suffered in life, all blended together and distilled into the highest concentration of torture that pierced through body and soul like a lance until you choked on your own blood. It was eternal damnation. It was Hell.<em>

"Sammy! Wake up!" Sam's eyes snapped open and he sat up in the dark with a jerk, nearly colliding foreheads with Dean who sprang back. "Whoa! Take it easy there, dude!"

Sam took a deep, shuddery breath. "'M fine. Sorry."

Once Dean was sure that he wasn't going to be head-butted and tackled off the bed by a half-awake giant, he came back cautiously and sat down. "What was it this time, the midget clowns?"

"No." Sam shot a glare at his brother. "I've never dreamed about those."

"Not even once?"

"Not since you insisted that we watch _IT_ whenever we were kids."

Dean grinned. "Good times."

Sam snorted and then groaned. "Oh God..." He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forwards, clutching at his hair with both hands while Dean sighed in concern.

"It was a bad one, wasn't it?"

"What tipped you off?"

Dean shrugged and leaned back against the footboard. "So. You wanna talk about it?"

"Not particularly. And since when did you turn into Sigmund Freud?"

That comment just made Dean roll his eyes. Sam always _did _get either a bit snarky or a bit clammed whenever he was feeling off...usually the latter, but the sarcasm did definitely come out. "Fine, Sasquatch, whatever you say. See if I ever offer a chick-flick moment again." The brothers sat in silence for a moment while Sam breathed and Dean wondered if it was safe to go back to his sleeping bag on the hard floor (at least he would get the bed tomorrow night) whenever Sam spoke again.

"You don't think we woke Adam and Jody, do you?"

"Nah. You weren't yelling or anything, so I think we're good."

"Good. Adam needs all the sleep he can get."

_You too, Sammy, you too._ Dean bit his lip. "Think you can doze back off? Or d'you need me to sing you a lullaby?"

"I kind of value my eardrums, so no. You've got a voice like a strangled cat."

Dean took the (COMPLETELY UNJUST) accusation about his singing prowess in stride...they weren't unusual. He and Sam had been insulting each other ever since Sam learned to speak and this was the kind of bickering that Dean lived for - the half-joking, half-serious banter that left them both irritating and laughing and taken back to a time when they had been teenagers huddled on a ratty couch under a threadbare blanket with microwave popcorn and a crappy B horror flick while John was working late at whatever job he had managed to pick up in that particular town. Good times before Stanford, before their father died, before Sammy's spine snapped and he breathed his last in Dean's arms, before Dean had bought himself a one-way ticket to Hell to be carved and to carve, before they had been broken and torn apart and betrayed again and again until all they had left was a shoddy ghost of what they once were, held together with safety pins and scotch tape.

But they were getting better. They HAD to be. Soon as Ezekiel finished mending Sam up (and he must be close if he was no longer messing about with Sam's sleep patterns) and they could put this whole damn thing behind them they would start rebuilding as a family again. Go on a non-hunting-related road trip. Take Adam to the Grand Canyon. Maybe even go on a pack-mule ride with farty donkeys so that next time Sam got a fever he could actually be rambling about something that had actually happened.

In fact, he REALLY needed to start telling Sam about Zeke. They shouldn't be going into a hunt with issues between them. Hadn't John always taught them that? Hadn't the past decade or so of their lives shown them that? Yeah...maybe the message just needed Dean to make a move for it to get through their Winchester thick heads. "Sammy? You still awake?"

"Unfortunately, yes." God. Sam had been spending way too much time with Adam recently...

"I, uh, I need to tell you something - "

"I would love to hear it, Dean. But how about some time whenever my heart _isn't _trying to leap out through my throat and I don't feel like I'm going to start praying to the porcelain god?" Sam's voice was muffled from where he was leaning forward and pressing the palm of his hand against his forehead.

He didn't look so good after all, so Dean let the matter drop and sat back, letting Sam breath deeply and deal with it by himself (he was a grown man, after all...Dean wasn't going to coddle him). Talking about hidden angels could wait.

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><p>"...awwww, now. Isn't this sweet?"<p>

Dean's eyes snapped open and he grimaced as someone's rancid breath hit him in the face. "Dammit." He muttered, elbowing the irritating form of little brother that was sprawled out beside him and glaring blearily at the form of his youngest brother who was leaning against the doorjamb, grinning. "What the hell do you want, brat?"

"I'm currently wondering whether or not I should be worried." Adam smirked and came into the room, padding softly in his bare feet. "He's got you pretty well trapped there, doesn't he?"

Dean was finally awake enough to wriggle out from under Sam's arm (the clingy bastard) without waking him and to get to his feet so he could loom over the grinning brat who was looking _far _too alert for a half-crazed kid who didn't eat or sleep with any regularity. "This isn't what it looks like." He said, retrieving his overshirt from the bedroll on the floor. "So you can wipe that stupid smirk off your face."

Adam held up a hand. "I didn't say anything, dude." He said. "It's clear that the two of you had a slumber party without me and then Sam the Human Squid got his tentacles in you. Trust me. I know how he is."

That made Dean stop for a moment. "What?"

Adam shot a look at Sam who was still deep in the clutches of dreamland. "Yeah. I mean...I probably should find it weird or whatever but, uh, after...downstairs...yeah. I know how he is. He was there too. For a long time. Only thing that kept the...douchebag duo away for a while." He smiled palely and regained a bit of his snarkiness. "Besides. Even if I _was _worried, the look of utter disgust on your face there would have settled it. Stop being so damn sensitive. It makes people suspicious."

Dean stared, feeling rather like he was caught in some strange, perverted Lifetime made-for-TV movie that had turned into a comedy. Ever since he and Sam had become adults people were getting the wrong idea about them. Sam's college room-mate Freshman year had been sure they were a couple, the amount of times they had received disbelieving and even disgusted looks from hotel clerks was beyond the realms of funny and into annoying, demons made snide remarks (usually Crowley), and even the goddamn FBI seemed to have them pegged as an incestuous, star-crossed, suicidally homicidal couple...which was all _kinds _of wrong and sickening.

They were _brothers_, for God's sake! It wasn't Dean's fault that Sam had knocked over the alarm clock in the middle of the night and hit him in the face, waking him up so that he would spend the next half hour sitting in the dark with his brother and finally passing out around 3:00 am. And it wasn't Dean's fault either that Sam had a tendency to find anything warm within the vicinity and stick his arms around and his knees right in the kidneys of it (Dean REALLY pitied Sam's past girlfriends and future wife).

And that, Dean decided, was just getting past awkward and into the realms of 'what the hell is wrong with you people?' Dean HATED it when this happened!

Pushing past Adam who was grinning again, Dean stripped the covers off of Sam. "Rise and shine, Sammy! It's time for another day of kicking ass and taking names!"

"Go to hell." Sam muttered, burrowing under his pillow.

Beside Dean, Adam winced, grin disappearing again, but - thank God or whoever was currently in Heaven aside from Metadouche - seemed unaffected by it all. Maybe today would be a good day. Dean tugged on Sam's left big toe. "No can do there, dude. Got lots to do today."

Sam opened one eye and glared at them through his mess of hair. "I hate you."

"I know you do. C'mon. Get up."

Adam snorted and flopped down on the bed. "Dude." He said to Sam. "Did, uh, did you two drink or something last night? Because your breath smells like something died in your mouth...a month ago."

After a couple more minutes of trying vainly to shut out the light with his pillow, Sam finally admitted defeat and got up. "You two are impossible." He grumbled, fumbling for his shoes and running a hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth it down.

Dean grinned. "Impossibly wonderful, you mean."

"Bite me."

"I'd rather not, thanks. Go take a shower. You stink."

* * *

><p>"Well it's about time you boys got up." Jody said, pouring herself a cup of coffee and noting approvingly that they all looked - at least some - better rested than they had yesterday.<p>

"Yeah, well, this one's a primper," Dean shoved Sam's shoulder with his, "too much hair, need to give him a trim. And this one," He indicated Adam with a jerk of the thumb, "Has a fondness for making things awkward with stupid jokes."

"You started it."

"I did NOT! You're the one with the dirty mind."

"Uh-huh...you went there, not me."

"He has a point, Dean."

"Whose side are you on?"

"Now I KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that he's related to you two." Jody said with a smile. "Speaking from personal experience, only brothers can get under your skin like that."

"You got that right." Dean said, looking like he was dreaming of slapping one of his brothers upside the head.

Both Sam and Adam looked distinctly unrepentant.

"Well you'll have to fend for yourselves this morning. Got a call...gotta head to the station. And before you ask, no, it doesn't seem to be anything to do with the case. Just your standard drunk driver caught with a bunch of pot in his glove compartment."

Dean made a face as he inserted a Pop Tart into the toaster oven. "How dumb can you get?" He scoffed. "Everybody knows that if you're going to carry pot you don't stuff it in..." He trailed off as he noticed Sam and Jody looking at him disapprovingly.

"I'm just going to pretend that I didn't hear that." The sheriff said, frowning. Dean shrugged sheepishly.

"You are harbouring wanted criminals in your living room." He said with a grin.

"Thank you for reminding me." She said, draining her coffee mug. "Well, I'm off out. Do I need to worry about bailing you all out at any point today?"

Sam shook his head, buttering toast. "No. Though if you could give us clearances to the morgue to have a look at the bodies that would save a lot of risk."

"I'm going to lose my job...but what the hell? I'll put a call through to Morticia. And don't laugh at her name, she really doesn't like that."

All three brothers instantly assumed expressions that would have been appropriate for a Victorian funeral. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Uh-huh." Jody said on her way out the door. She couldn't begrudge them the laughs, though. Going by Sam's rather depressing rant the other night, something was rotten in Winchesterville, and it was good to see them be able to laugh and chase the shadows from their eyes for a while.

And GOD that made her sound like a bad gothic novel!

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><p>After Jody left the boys made themselves comfortable in her kitchen and made some breakfast. Adam managed to eat some honest-to-God sausages without any incident and Sam insisted that they stack the plates in the sink and leave them to soak. He even dug out a new bottle of dish detergent to replace the one that Dean emptied.<p>

"Dude. How the hell do you know where everything is?"

"This isn't the first time I've stayed here, Dean." Sam said casually, though he was staring way too intently into the soapy water. "I told you that I had to fix the Impala up after Dick Roman. Stayed until it wasn't safe for Jody any-more, then I just starting driving."

"Ah."

There was an awkward silence for a moment before Adam cleared his throat. "I'm just gonna go and see if there's any weekend cartoons worth watching while you two go and play dress-up again."

"Whoa, whoa there, squirt!" Dean said. "Are you sure you're okay to stay here on your own?"

"Uh...yeah! I am nineteen years old and a former Sophomore in college, y'know. I'm not an infant."

"Never said you were." Sam cut in before Dean could start his Big Brother Hen routine and possibly ruin the truce Adam seemed to have offered. "But you will be perfectly alone. Jody's not here."

Adam sighed. "Is this about what happened yesterday?" He said. "Because, honestly, I'm fine. It wasn't even all that bad!"

"Fine." Dean said. "But watch what you watch and keep us on speed-dial."

"Yeah, yeah. Got it."

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><p><em><strong>17th Day of Firstfrost, Oz, Faerie<strong>_

_**HELLO, WINCHESTERS! **_

_**Well the last of the Witch's army was cleaned up today. No we didn't kill them. That's probably what they deserve, but someone has to answer for the war crimes. Which were terrible. I feel like crying every time I think about the poor children that grew up in and suffered from this war. Oz is amazing...but every time we go into a part won back from the monkeys or the wheelers it's just so ugly and barren and ruined and the people suffered so much.**_

_**Really makes a girl feel like she's doing some good, y'know? I get why you guys hunt. Saving people, hunting things, the family business? It's hard work and sacrifice, but so worth it!**_

_**Anyway, we've pretty much stamped out the resistance. I hope that I can come home soon. I miss you.**_

_**You bros better stay out of trouble!**_

_**Love,**_

_**Charlie**_

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><p><strong>Thoughts? Please read &amp; review. Reviews are like pie for Dean. Dean needs pie. ;)<strong>


	28. La Morte de Joie

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><p>"So, Morticia, what can you tell us about the bodies?"<p>

"Dr. Eden, please." The prim, salt-and-pepper haired pathologist said coldly. Clearly she was not best pleased at being told to let two (faux) Federal Agents into her morgue. Dean sent a mental thanks to Jody because he had a feeling that even his best charming smile combined with Sam's puppy-dog expression wouldn't have had much of an effect on this one. (He made a mental note to make sure that she wasn't another djinn in disguise. That would be just their luck.)

"I still don't understand what interest the Bureau could possibly have in this." Dr. Eden was saying as she led the way to the freezer. "The only reason the girls are even here is because George and Julie wanted to know what killed their girls."

"The, uh, the bosses and the CDC are working together." Sam said, rubbing at his forehead. "We've seen a few other cases like this in the past few years and they want to be sure it's not a sign of a Silent Bird Flu or anything like that."

He was starting to ramble, so Dean cut in. "Yeah. Very off-the-books and on the down low, you understand. Confidential. We don't want to cause a panic if it isn't anything after all."

"Hmmm." The pathologist pulled on a pair of latex gloves with a snap and picked up a scalpel. "Well, should I find anything in Maisie's chest, I'll be sure to let you know."

"That's what we're here for." Dean leaned against the freezer and watched Morticia get to work, idly wondering if his giving in to the impulse to whistle 'Dust on the Wind' would end up with her dissecting _him _instead. There was a quite a bit of blood and it was rather gross...but certainly not worse than some of the more fresh corpses that he had dug up and burnt over the years. Like that one girls killed and stashed under the floorboards of her boyfriend's camper. That had been disgusting. She had been wrapped in plastic and duct tape so she was still rather squishy.

Yeah. After that, there wasn't much that could gross Dean Winchester out...unlike Sam, oddly enough, who actually went rather green as the first cut was made and fixated on the flashing forceps for a minute. His throat worked as he swallowed compulsively and, for some reason, something like terror flickered through his eyes.

_Pull it together, Winchester. _Sam was telling himself. _They're not here for you. You shouldn't be freaking out like this. It's not a meathook. It's not a knife. Well...it is...but not to dissect YOU. Not everything is about you. Suck it up and deal!_

"Sam?" Dean put a hand on his brother's shoulder and frowned as Sam visibly jumped and looked around, wild-eyed. "Hey, you okay?"

"Who, me? Y-yeah...I'm fine."

That stutter settled it. Something was wrong. Sam was pale and sweating and...oh crap. Crappity, crappity, crap, crap, crap! He was playing with the hand-scar again. Dean hadn't seen him do that in YEARS! Not since Purgatory, at any rate. What the hell?

Morticia looked up from her bloody work. "Are you okay?" She asked, sounding more like she was asking out of concern that Sam was about to puke all over her equipment than actual worry that he was ill.

"He's fine." Dean answered after seeing that Sam was more concerned with taking deep breaths and pressing that damn scar than with answering. "He's got a weak stomach, that's all. You should see him after a few shots of Jack!" When Sam didn't even protest that insult to his drinking ability and continued to take ragged breaths (something unusual for the hunter who made some messy kills and usually handled the dissections of the duo) Dean grabbed Sam by the suit jacket and pushed him towards the doors. "Excuse us for a minute." He said to Dr. Eden who shrugged and went back to sawing through Maisie Parker-James' ribs.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam protested weakly as the doors slammed shut behind them. "We need this information for the...the case."

"Well I need you not to look like you're about to vomit on my shoes."

Dean's brother blinked. "What?"

"You! Dude, are you getting sick or something? Because if you are we can call this off, pack Adam up, and see if Garth can send another hunter over here."

"Dean. I'm fine."

"Uh-huh. Right. Sorry, not buying it."

Sam snorted in annoyance that really would have been more convincing if he didn't look so off. "Well what do you want me to say?"

"How about the goddamn truth?"

"Right. Because we're _alllll _about that nowadays, sure." Sam grimaced and rubbed at his forehead again. "I have a headache."

Dean zeroed in on the frown. "So you are getting sick?" Where was that angel whenever he was needed...could vessels, even ones still in control of themselves, even get sick? If so - what kind of scam was that?

"I'm FINE."

"Sure. You look about as fine as Adam does whenever he comes out of one of his episodes. You're not fine! So stop giving me that bullshit and tell me the truth so it doesn't come back to bite us in the ass later!"

"Okay, fine. You want to know what's going on, Dean?" Sam said with a definite snap to his voice. "What's going on is that I have a headache. I felt fine this morning, but now I have a headache. And I know you were lying to me about the whole 'crazy' thing because I'm having flashbacks or whatever again. Yeah, you heard me, flashbacks! I'm standing in there watching her carve that corpse and all I can see are the damn meathooks from Hell, okay?"

"You're having Hell flashbacks? Dude. I thought you were over those."

"So did I. But I guess all the stuff we've been doing with Adam re-triggered them or something. It's not like Cas took away the memories along with the Lucifer hallucinations."

"True."

Dean looked Sam up and down critically, noting that he was still breathing a bit weird, but that his colour was better and he wasn't compelled to mess with his hand at the moment. "So, Sam, seriously. Are you good? Because if you're not, we can call this off for a while and just get Mrs. Addams in there to send the results to us."

Sam set his jaw and straightened up. "No. I'm fine." He said, fixing his jacket. "It's passed, I'm sure. I'll be fine."

And with that he marched right back into the morgue, Dean following behind with a shake of his head. This just _stunk _of something screwy going on. This was going to backfire. It always did.

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><p><strong>Read &amp; Review. :)<strong>


	29. The Plot Thickens

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><p>Dean held onto the wheel of the Impala with one hand and reached over with the other to flip the radio over to a soft rock station. Not exactly his style, but it had always put Sam to sleep like a little baby and kept him out...working better than booze or any of the half-remembered lullabies six-year-old Dean may or may not have attempted to sing him.<p>

Something was wrong. Something very, very wrong. Dean could feel in his gut that the rat he smelled had nothing to do with anything being right. It had been _years _since Sam had suffered more than a passing nightmare about his time in Hell, let alone a full-on flashback. Of course the stray bad dream still cropped up from time to time (most notably after Sam's trip to the outer circles of Hell for Bobby) but it hadn't been like this. Not since Dean came back from Purgatory. Sam was a tough guy and it took a lot to noticeably rattle him. Living the hunter life meant learning to compartmentalise things in your head and to shove all of the bad crap back. You had to unless you wanted to end up drooling in a straitjacket somewhere.

Winchesters had practically perfected this art. Dean could remember plenty of nights when John would drink himself to sleep while Sam brooded or cried over an argument (depending on whether he was a teen or a kid), both of them far too angry and ready to bite Dean's head off if he breathed wrong and both of them FAR too stubborn to just talk it out like mature individuals. Dean was under no illusions that he was much different (just LOOK at the way he had treated Sam after the whole Purgatory mess!) but he liked to think that he didn't internalise and let things stew quite so badly as Sam did. He just pushed it from his mind with copious amounts of alcohol and a well-placed hunt or barfight.

But that still didn't explain why all of the restless sleep, nightmares, and general-skittishness of Sam freshly post-Hell had been returning. Two days since the incident in the morgue of Morticia. Two days of Sam alternating between insisting that everything was all hunky-dory, peachy-keen one moment and then looking sideways at his razor the next. Two days of trying to work the case despite Sam's issues. Two days of Dean being on constant high-alert and experiencing no small amount of deja vu.

Sam was perfectly willing to chalk it all up to the stress that the return of Adam had generated, mumbling something about revisiting certain parts of his memory more often now every time Dean attempted to get him to talk about it. Dean had tried, at one point, to have a conversation with Zeke over what he could do for Sam's mental health...but the damn angel was frustratingly non-responsive. Sam was convinced it was nothing, that it was just his mind breaking down again, but Dean wasn't so sure.

Now, granted, he had no idea what exactly had happened to Sam and Adam down there in the Cage. He had pieced together a bit of a picture, based on his own experiences and some of the garbled bits and pieces he had gleaned from sharing a motel room with a brother who had a tendency to mumble when having a nightmare or ramble when drunk or sometimes casually drop hints in conversation without even knowing it. It wasn't a pretty picture either.

* * *

><p>"Oh my God."<p>

Dean looked up from where he was going over the newspaper clippings. Again. "You okay there, Sammy?"

"It's 'Sam', and yes I think so." Sam was circling things on a map. "You see the neighbourhood that the Parker-James' live in?"

"Yeah?"

"Well it's sort of the epicentre, if you will, for all kinds of freak activity over the past year or so. Not just whatever curse is going on right now, but lots of whacky accidents...most of which resulted in death or some kind of serious injury."

"Um, okay. So what exactly does that have to do with our case?"

Sam shot him the classic Dean-You're-Being-An-Idiot look. "Because, _Dean_, I think I may have found out...uhh."

"Sammy?"

There was no answer from the middle Winchester who held up one finger in the 'Half a sec' gesture as he leaned forward and pressed a hand to his forehead. At the other end of the table, Adam looked up with startled, wide eyes from where he had been scribbling on Jody's shopping list tablet. Dean didn't like the way he looked almost wild, as if his fight-or-flight instinct was trying to kick in unannounced. This damn case was getting to them all.

"Sam? You okay?"

"Fine." Sam gritted out, face still hidden. "Just have a headache, that's all." He took a couple of deep breaths. "Okay, get this," He launched back into his explanation. "You have Thomas Knox, forty-five years old, 508 pounds, found in his bathtub last year around Easter entirely naked except for the pelt of a fawn and with his head put on backwards."

Adam visibly swallowed, shoved his chair back with a jerk, and all but ran out of the room - presumably to hide somewhere and write a bazillion more of those sentences that they really needed to have a talk about.

Dean didn't blame him, though. The mental image of old Mr. Knox's state of discovery alone was enough to make him want to toss his cookies. "Geeze, Sam. Could you be more descriptive?"

Sam glared. "Can we focus on the real problem here, Dean?" He sniped. "The Parker-James house is right in the centre of a bubble of weird supernatural issues. Sounds witchy to me. I think we need to have another talk with Ms. Parker."

"Great. Back to vegan town." Dean sighed. "FBI suits again? Or are we going to wait until dark and break in?"

"Dunno."

* * *

><p>"Oh we are seriously going to regret this." Dean pulled his jacket tighter around himself and shivered as a breeze went right down his collar. He rolled up the window. "How are you doing, Sam?"<p>

"Fine." Sam was going through their lock-picks and tools, OCD and bitchy as ever.

"Man I don't know what's more disgusting: the fact that Ms. Nicety-Nice Vegan is actually a bodily-fluid spewing bitch or the fact that you actually _ate _some of her baking and enjoyed it!"

And cue the bitchface.

"We really should get going." Sam said, clicking the lock-pick case shut. "The sooner we get in there and get back, the sooner we can take care of the problem and get back to Adam. I think he's going to have a bad night."

_Right. Because you look like sunshine and puppies right now_. "Well, then. Let's get moving!"

Moving quickly and quietly, the two hunters sneaked down the sidewalk, up the polished stone walkway, and around the back of the depressingly symmetrical house to the back door. There Sam kept watch while Dean jimmied the lock gingerly and pushed it carefully open a crack, praying that these potential vegan witch housewife hadn't installed a security system. Seriously. Who did that? Not like it would actually protect you against anything. What was it going to do, beep and trill and call the police while a werewolf eats your heart? Yeah. Fat a lot of good that was.

"Dean, hurry up." Sam breathed.

"Just a sec."

The door creaked open (thankfully without setting off any alarms) and Dean grinned at Sam. "Yahtzee." He said, drawing out a flashlight and going in. Sam rolled his eyes and followed.

They had successfully swept the entire bottom floor of the house whenever suddenly the living room was flooded with light, blinding them.

"Well, well, well." Ms. Parker and Mr. James stood on the spiral staircase, arms crossed and bodies wrapped in matching garish silk robes.

Dean gulped. Oh crap.

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><p><strong>Please read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	30. It's Always The Stepmother

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><p>"Well aren't you two just being bad boys?" Ms. Parker came down the stairs, silk robe fluttering behind her and showing off more leg than Dean cared to see right now. He was all for appreciating the view...but he drew the line at witches or whatever the hell this bitch was. And clearly she was something nasty. The 'grieving stepmother' they had met the other day would <em>not <em>be acting so calm at two supposed Federal Agents caught red-handed as they sneaked in through her kitchen.

"We just had to come back and join the party." Dean grinned, subtly reaching for the holy water at his belt. If a witch was in deeply enough, the consecrated H2O would sting her skin at least...possibly giving them time to find her alter (since she clearly wasn't using hex bags) and destroy it.

"You're not FBI agents, are you?"

"What was your first clue, bitch?"

"Samantha, if you please." 'Samantha' gave Dean a cold look and primly went to pour herself a cup of tea. Dean couldn't contain the snort.

"Riiiight. Samantha." He said. "Well I wish I could say that it was a pleasure to meet you, but we've got another engagement a couple of towns over, so we'll get out of your hair." Tugging on the strangely unresponsive Sam's sleeve, Dean turned to leave...only to have the kitchen door slam shut right in his face.

Samantha tsked. "Not so fast, handsome." She said coolly. "You're Hunters, that's what you are."

"Oh?" Sam said, face a bit pale but eyes very wide and innocent. "We are?"

"You must think me an absolute fool." The presumed witch looked up at her husband who was still standing on the stairs. "Darrin." She said sternly. "You know what to do."

Sam and Dean shifted into fighting stances as Darrin nodded jerkily (almost robotically) and stalked down the stairs towards the two brothers. Dean noticed that the man had a distressingly blank stare and seemed to not be focusing on anything at all. What the hell?

"Hey, hey buddy!" Dean said, backing up against the door with Sam. "Hey! WAKE UP! I don't want to have to use this knife on you!"

Darrin didn't even blink. Clearly he was under some type of spell.

"Look, Darrin." Sam pleaded softly. "Whatever she's told you, it's not worth it. We don't want to hurt you, but if you don't stop, we might have to." Samantha cackled softly from the couch...how clichéd! The brothers were backed up against the door now, preparing to jump Darrin and (hopefully) stab Samantha. "Darrin? Can you hear me?"

"Oh he can hear you, baby-face."

The door opened and Dean fell backwards, landing in the arms of..._another Darrin_? For a moment he stared up at the identical face in shock, before snarling and kicking 'Darrin' in the head.

His neck snapped with a crunch and he fell to the side, only to stand back up and right himself with another sickening crunch before helping his eight or so identical brethren (seriously...what the hell?) to pin Sam and Dean on the floor.

In between the limbs that held him down, Dean saw Samantha smirk and get to her feet, approaching with hips swaying like she thought she was some Captain Planet villainess. Huh. Maybe she was. Dean had always _said _that they would find the source of all evil at a vegan bakery...

Any further musings were quickly cut off as a heavy boot slammed into his head and he lost his grip on consciousness.

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><p>Sam shuddered as hands groped at him from all angles. Ordinarily this would have been little more than a slight irritant (he did not like being pinned by goons, oh no he didn't) but now he felt little better than Adam as demonic claws hovered just at the outskirts of his vision. What the hell was wrong with him? Had he finally cracked...again? Or was he really just a weak, pathetic little excuse for tainted humanity that had done nothing but drag down his favoured and more competent brother? Sam knew he was a screw-up, but he had always felt that he was at least strong enough to support Dean.<p>

But now...now he couldn't stop that thing from stomping on Dean's head. He couldn't stop the hands that took his weapon, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't stop his mind from seeing them as something else. He was useless. He couldn't even stop them from dragging him and his brother's unresponsive body across the room and down the stairs to the musty basement, Samantha in the lead.

She flicked on an iridescent 'green' bulb, letting its cold light flood over the basement - clearly revealing a bloodstained floor, two chairs with voodoo dolls strapped to them that were set on either side of a nasty-looking alter, and a large cage in one corner.

Sam felt another shiver go up his spine. This was bringing back long-buried memories of the Benders family and their live meat closet.

"Hello, Darrin, darling." Samantha crouched down by the cage and tapped on the metal bars with one fingernail. "Wake up, sweetheart."

"What do you want, you bitch?"

The 'bitch' laughed. "Oh such a filthy mouth you have." She said. "Do you know what I do to naughty little boys?"

"Yes, yes...for God's sake, woman, I know!" Darrin (the real Darrin?) slammed one hand against the cage. Samantha just shook her head.

"You'll have to forgive my husband here." She said, stroking the hand that immediately pulled back in disgust. "He's a little bit temperamental sometimes."

Sam blinked around the spinning in his brain and cursed himself. "So let me get this." He said, trying to play for time until Dean could wake up and help him fight off these goons (clones? dopplegangers?). "You've got Darrin James shut away down here while you make a dozen or so copies of him to, what, have orgies with?"

Samantha looked annoyed. "I _wanted _a husband and a comfortable home. Times have changed. You can no longer make a living by selling charms and herbal infusions in this day of New Age pretenders and Christians with their witch trials and book burnings," (Sam didn't have the heart to tell her that even those were outdated) "and those pretentious youngsters screwing about with ouiji boards and crystals and draining the importance from all things that used to be sacred and powerful."

"Well I hate to tell you, but somehow I don't think that tying a middle-aged widower up in his basement and killing his children is a way to earn your way into his affections."

There was a muffled sob and curse from the cage where Darrin (the real Darrin) was being held. The fakes holding Sam and Dean remained as blank an lifeless as ever.

"Maisie and Beth didn't have to die." Ms. Parker sighed, crossing the room and starting to shuffle things around carefully on the alter. "I had no desire to kill them or to imprison dear Darrin." She shot a look that was something akin to demented affection at the shadowed cage where her husband sat hidden away. "But a witch has to eat."

If Dean were awake, he would be having a _field day _with Samantha the Evil Stepmother. But Dean wasn't awake. So it was up to Sam to man up and get them out of this. "What do you mean 'eat'?" He asked, shifting his wrist to test how alert his captors were.

"Why their souls, of course."

"Of course."

Samantha Parker nodded calmly. "Yes. There is tremendous life in the soul of a child."

"So you've been working your way through families. Draining them of their life-force."

"Like I said, a witch has to eat."

"That is disgusting!"

Sam snapped his head around as Dean, looking slightly groggy and very much disgusted, glared at Samantha.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to hear Mrs. Hannibal over there confessing just what a Grade A freak she is."

And there it was - Dean's extra brand of hatred for any kind of monster that messed with kids. He hated any creature that went bump in the night and took a bite while it was at it, but there was a certain place reserved in Dean Winchester's personal hell for the ones that harmed children. This was going to get messy and Sam could feel his headache returning full force.

* * *

><p>Adam Milligan curled up in a corner of Sheriff Jody Mills' couch and clamped both hands over his ears as he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward. <em>No. No. You are NOT going to whimper like a little kid! It's just a headache.<em>

He felt like crap. Not that he had exactly felt _un_crappy for a long time now...but this was different from the hellfire that always hovered just outside the range of his vision. This was purely physical.

It hadn't escaped Adam's notice that Sam had been suffering from a near-constant headache for the past day or so. Adam _had _just figured it was because apparently Sam was having nightmares (and, okay, Adam did feel quite a bit of sympathy and a bit of concern over that) but now Adam wondered if he was just catching something. If Sam had given him a cold, Adam was going to _kill _him!

He just hoped that these symptoms were _just _from a cold...

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><p>"You know what I find extraordinary about your souls?"<p>

"Let me guess...they taste like cotton candy?"

Sam shot Dean an annoyed look. Samantha smiled. "More like whiskey and salt, if you must know." She said. "You reek of sulphur as well, both of you. The stench of hellfire is strong." Sam swallowed hard, trying not to let that bother him. "But that is not what makes you two so exquisite." She inhaled deeply right next to Dean's ear, prompting a grimace from him as she sniffed his neck. "Your souls are by far the strangest I have ever seen. Your life force is strong and yet very aged, as if you are older than you look...but in some ways it is also very young."

Dean chuckled bitterly. "Yeah. That sounds about right." He said. "So how are you going to get it, suck it out through my ear?"

"Oh no. There is a ceremony to it all."

"Perfect."

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><p><strong>Oh dear. How are they going to get out of this one? Please read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	31. Bewitched, Bothered, And Not Beguiled

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><p>"God, Sammy, lay off the Lucky Charms." Dean grunted as he attempted to haul his unresponsive, overgrown little brother upright. Sam had lost weight during the Trials and was nowhere near his soulless prime...but he was still damn heavy as an ox. Or a moose, if you were talking to Crowley, and much as Dean hated to admit it, the King of Hell did have a point there. "I swear, Sam, if I get a hernia from this...I'll kill you."<p>

Sam made no response (of course he didn't...not even a shadow of a bitchface) and slumped against Dean's side limply.

With a lot of grunting and swearing - and what Dean was _sure _was a slipped vertebrae disk - Dean finally managed to get Sam into a position that enabled him to half-carry, half-drag the very unhelpful sasquatch out of the house and down the painfully manicured lawn to where Baby was waiting.

It was yet another adventure to get Sam's floppy body and miles of uncoordinated limbs tucked into the front seat successfully. Dean would have just stuffed him in the backseat except...he had a feeling that Sam would need him to be close enough to touch. Hadn't he taught both of his younger brothers to ground themselves in reality with a touch and some pain? Hadn't he told Sam to make him Stone #1? Hopefully there was still enough of the bond they had once shared for that to still hold true enough for Dean to hold Sam in place from whatever curse that bitch-witch had put him under.

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><p><em>"You're a right evil bitch, you know that?"<em>**  
><strong>

_"You, young man, had better watch your mouth. Would you speak to your mother like that?" Samantha smirked as her twenty or so Darrin clones held Sam and Dean down and tied them to the chairs. "This is not the way I normally do things, but I can't pass up the chance to consume a life force so unusual so I suppose I will have to circumvent a bit of the ritual."_

_Sam grunted as his gang of clones shoved him back and started binding ropes around his chest. "I don't suppose you could just not bother in the first place?"_

_The Evil Stepmother gave him a look and primly lit the blood-red candles. "Well done, babies." She crooned approvingly to the clones, patting the nearest one on the head. (There was a sound distinctly like a choking sob from the real Darrin's corner.) Dean tried to make eye-contact with Sam, tried to work out a plan of escape. It wasn't like they hadn't been in worse straits before and managed to get out...even before the arrival of Cas in their lives they had always managed._

_Samantha approached with a gold knife and, grabbing Sam by his hair, yanked back his head - exposing that long neck for her knife._

_Dean could hear Sam's breathing speed up. Honestly, he was surprised that his brother was holding it together as well as he was. Not that Sam wasn't brave. Because he was - sometimes almost stupidly so - but, considering that both he and Adam had looked funny at the forks at lunch, Dean was kicking himself for bringing Sam along in the first place. Where was Zeke when they needed him?_

_"Just hold still, sweetheart." The witch whispered and, with two fast strokes, slashed the arteries on either side of Sam's throat._

_Sam's eyes flashed momentarily blue before Dean could even scream out his curses of denial and instantly the wounds sewed themselves closed, leaving nothing but Sam panting and looking drained and dazed._

_The witch frowned and dug the knife into his shoulder, prompting a gasping scream that had Dean longing to wrap his hands around her spine and snap it...slowly._

_But once again not much happened. Sam grunted in pain and looked pale, but aside from a small spot of blood on his jacket there was nothing. And, once again, the wound closed itself. _

_"What are you?" Samantha hissed, grabbing Sam's face and yanking his head further back. "What the HELL are you?!"_

_"I. Don't. Know." Sam ground out from between gritted teeth, though Dean could see that - underneath his glare - he was bewildered and scared. "I don't know what you're talking about."_

_That earned him a slap. Dean winced in sympathy as the witch's fingernails raked across Sam's cheek, leaving a couple scratches and an ugly, red handprint that Zeke was clearly not bothered to heal._

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><p>Those damn witches, spewing their bodily fluid everywhere and riding the Devil's broomstick and dabbling in things that just made a friggan' mess!<p>

"No, no." Sam mumbled, tossing his head back and forth on the leather of Baby's seat in distress. Dean kept his eyes on the road and reached out to clumsily pat Sam's shoulder.

"Shhh, Sammy. Hang in there, little brother, I got you."

Sam only groaned and slid back into utter silence.

Dean honestly preferred the noise. At least then he knew that his brother was still in there somewhere.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

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><p><em>"...ag an cumhacht ag an fates agus ifrinn glaoch mé..."<em>

_Dean shuddered as the witch stood over the alter with what looked like the skull of a baby in her hands (boy...she was really going all out in the cliche department) and sprinkled incense into the candle flames, filling the musty basement with a sickly sweet scent. "So. What now. We all going to hold hands and make out?"_

_Cue a bitchface from Sam and a death glare from Samantha, who seemed to be losing patience with them. Dean smiled at her while he strained to reach the tiny knife he had tucked into his back pocket. He just needed to keep her busy long enough to weaken the cords._

_"I don't understand." Sam said. "Why are you doing this?"_

_Samantha Parker looked at him as though he was particularly irritating. She had masked her earlier fear of his healing capabilities well and had spent the rest of the time creepily sniffing his hair and declaring with glee that there was no need to shed his blood because he was already in the palm of her hand...whatever that meant._

_"I wouldn't expect you to understand, Magic Boy." She said, now sprinkling something that looked like bone powder. "So shut the hell up."_

* * *

><p>But of course Sam didn't. As they were waiting at a stoplight, Dean glanced over at his unconscious brother. His brave kid who, despite everything that had happened recently, had held it together long enough to set Samantha off on a monologue (wherein they learned that the Darrin clones were her babies with benefits - GROSS - a la Poison Ivy) and wriggle free of his bonds to kill two birds with one stone by leaping over the alter and ramming Samantha's head down on one of the spikes, forever defiling the unholy thing and overturning it.<p>

He had then freed Dean from his half-sawed through bonds just in time for the two of them to turn around and, with a bit of difficulty, utterly wipe the floor with those Darrin clones.

Dean groaned and let his head clunk off of the steering wheel.

They hadn't been in time to save the real Darrin, though.

* * *

><p><em>"You okay there, Sammy?" Dean wiped his blade off on the seat of the latest Darrin clone's pants.<em>

_Sam grunted and pushed his own latest opponent off with some difficulty, drawing in a deep breath. "Yeah, man, I'm fine." He said, wiping blood off his face. "What the hell?"_

_"Exactly. I've seen some pretty cuckoo crazy stuff in our time...but I think this takes the cake!"_

_"Right." Sam got to his feet and staggered, putting out one hand to steady himself. "Dammit...I'm okay!"_

_Dean was about to protest whenever there was a wet, choking gurgle from the corner of the basement where the unfortunate Darrin James was being kept._

_Damn!_

_"Hey, Mr. James!" Sam shouted, trying to jimmy the lock, "Darrin, listen to me. Calm down. We're going to get you out!"_

_The two brothers hacked away at the lock (had Samantha closed it with a spell?) and finally managed to wrench the bars apart. Dean pulled out his flashlight and pulled his jacket over his nose as the stench of human filth assailed his nostrils. Just how long had Darrin been kept down here, poor bastard?_

_"Darrin? Do you hear me?" _

_They waded in a bit further, things squishing underfoot that Dean _really _didn't want to think about, following the sounds of Darrin's choking whimpers. _

_Finally their flashlight beams found him..._

_"Well I'll be damned."_

_Darrin lay on the floor in a puddle of his own vomit, urine, and sweat...choking and struggling as the tendrils of a putrid green plant writhed and dug their way deeper into his skull and wrapped around his neck. Oh God. Dean clamped a hand over his mouth in disgust. There was nothing they could do. No way was Darrin surviving that._

_"Must have been how the clones were connected to him." Sam said softly. _

_"Yeah." Dean didn't even have the pep to make a Batman reference. "Let's get out of here, Sammy." He said to his sibling who was wavering slightly on his face and grimacing, rubbing at his head again. _

* * *

><p>From there, Dean wasn't entirely sure what happened. He called Jody and left a message on her phone while Sam wiped down the doorknobs and took care to remove their fingerprints from things. They always tried to sweep down their hunt scenes, but they figured that they owed it to Jody to be EXTRA careful. The lady had put her job on the line enough already.<p>

They had been just finishing up whenever Sam suddenly froze, eyes going far away and terrified, before he promptly collapsed against Dean who just managed to balance them before so they didn't take out a rather expensive-looking lamp.

He had shaken Sam and slapped his face and even called for Zeke...but all to no avail.

Dean was willing to bet all of his fraudulent credit cards _and _his vintage Voluptuous Asian Lovelies that Samantha Parker, that bitch, had done something to his brother. He didn't know what (could have been anything from a side-effect of killing her to a result of the hastily-healed slashed neck she had given him) but whatever it was, that thrice-damned witch was lucky she was already dead!

He pulled into Jody's driveway with a screech of tires, not caring about the neighbours' sleep patterns. He had a little brother to take care of!

"C'mon, dude, let's get you somewhere more comfortable."

Slipping one of Sam's arm over his shoulder, Dean heaved and got Sam into a good carrying position with slightly less difficulty than before and started his trek to Jody's back door. He was alarmed whenever Sam didn't even stir as he was dragged up the cement stairs to her porch.

Dean fumbled with the doorknob and (oh praise God, it was unlocked) staggered in with his burden. Damn was Sam heavy!

He was heading for the living room when something unseen on the dark floor made him trip and go down with a crash and a tangle of limbs and elbows and far too much hair.

Dammit.

Crawling out from under Sam's comatose body (and hoping he hadn't hurt him too much) Dean crawled over and, after a bit of pain and a lot of swearing, managed to flip on the light so he could see what the hell he had tripped over.

"Oh no!"

It was Adam, sprawled out on the floor and seemingly as deeply under as Sam was. What the hell?

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><p><strong>Please read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	32. Dr Dean Is In!

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><p>Oh no.<p>

Dean looked between the bodies of his two younger brothers who were deeply under. Like an echo, Jody's words _"Siblings...it always takes siblings" _played through his mind. No. This couldn't be happening!

Quickly stooping down, Dean checked Adam's pulse. It was racing, pounding like mad under his fingertips and belying Adam's lax appearance. The same with Sam.

_"They would suffer night terrors and increased paranoia for several days before falling into a deep sleep where they would occasionally scream or cry out but never wake until their hearts finally gave out. The reports have been pretty consistent with that."_

"Well it sure as HELL isn't going to happen to MY BROTHERS!" Dean had absolutely no doubt that somehow the curse (perhaps in one last hurrah) had latched onto Sam and Adam. He wasn't sure how or why (aside from the fact that they were Winchesters and their luck SUCKED) but he just _knew _that killing Samantha Parker had not ended her curse.

He and Sam hadn't really thought anything of Sam's heightened issues over the past couple of days. Sure it had been a bit of a nuisance and Sam was rather frustrated by it all...but they'd all had their bad strings of days. Dean still sometimes felt sick whenever he saw a syringe and was reminded of Alistair and all of the hell that demon had brought with him. So they'd just figured that Sam's issues would pass...and Adam certainly hadn't _mentioned _having issues. But, then again, when had the kid ever unclammed enough to say as much? He definitely got their father's stubborn streak.

Dean sat back on his haunches and heaved a sigh. "Okay." He said softly, eyes still monitoring his brothers' breathing. "Okay. You can deal with this."

He caught Sam by the arms and hauled him off of Adam so the younger man could breath, laying them out side by side as if they were sardines in a can. Then he fumbled for his phone with one hand while checking their pulses once again with the other.

"Hello, Jody?"

"What the hell, Dean?" Jody's voice was slurring slightly. She sounded exhausted. "What is it now? I was just about to fill out paperwork for the Parker-James residence at this ungodly hour and..."

"I need you to burn it down."

"WHAT?!"

Dean swallowed. "I need you to torch the house."

"Now why in the flying HELL would I do that? You said it was a valuable piece of evidence." There was a pause before Jody said sharply. "What, are you afraid you didn't get all of your DNA and fingerprints out?"

"No. No, we were thorough." Had Adam's pulse just hitched a bit? "It's not that."

"Well then what is it?"

"It's...it's Sam and Adam. The curse got to 'em."

"Oh, Dean."

"Spare me the pity, Jody." Dean said. "I would do it myself, but I need to get them to somewhere better than the floor and I need that bitch's body and her alter and anything else witchy that she might have laying around burnt like yesterday. Probably won't break the curse entirely, seeing as how she didn't need hex bags or anything to cast it in the first place (they've been building up to it for a couple of days now) but I do want to rule that out as even a possibility. So it has to be burnt."

"God...I'm going to lose my job. The sheriff engaging in arson. Lovely headline, that." Jody grumbled, yawning audibly. "Don't worry about a thing, I've got this."

Dean felt a rush of affection for Jody Mills. Here he had woken her up in the middle of the night and made her go down to the station to then clean up his mess. And yet she was still helping them. No wonder Bobby had liked her so much!

He looked back at Sam and Adam. Samantha the Evil Stepmother would soon be fried nice and crispy, thanks to Jody. Now Dean just had to focus on figuring out what was going on with his brothers and how to fix it. One step at a time, learning as he went along just like they always did. He would fix this. He would!

"Okay, kiddos." Dean muttered, assessing the best way to get them off the floor and someplace safe. Jody had said that all the victims (_keep it clinical, Dean, keep it impersonal...keep your cool_) had suffered from night terrors that eventually pulled them into a coma and killed them.

Well if that was the case, then who knows what Sam and Adam with their heads full of hellfire would go through. Dean bit his lip, thinking. "Stay there. No moving." Sam and Adam made no answer (no, of course not) as Dean ran for the stairs and made for the guest room he and Sam had been sharing, stripping the bed of its covers and dragging the mattress down the hall, back down the stairs, and into the living room...positioning it next to the couch.

Panting slightly (that damn thing was bulky) Dean made his way back to his brothers and grabbed Sam under the armpits, hauling him over to the mattress and, after a few hairy moments where the thing tried to slide away, managed to get Sam positioned on it in something that was possibly close to comfortable. Groaning as he envisioned the aches that his back was going to suffer the next morning, Dean went back and repeated the process with slightly less difficulty (Adam was noticeably lighter than the overgrown Sasquatch) with Adam.

He then removed Sam's coat and shoes and made another trek upstairs to the bedroom for the blankets and pillows before bringing all of their evidence and research into the living room and spreading it out on the coffee table so he could work and keep a wary eye on his patients at the same time.

God he hated this! Hated bedside vigils with a passion!

Dean knew that he should probably be freaking out a little bit more about this whole mess...but he was just too damn tired right now. So he was going to work until either Jody came home to relieve him of his watch or until his eyelids staged a mutiny and shut of their own, rebellious accord. One of the two.

Because he was going to fix his brothers. He had just gotten Adam back and there was still so much he needed to fix with Sam. No WAY was he going to let any Creeperella wanna-be break up his family. No way, no how.

It was a shame that the witch was already dead because he needed something to hit...

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><p><strong>Please read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	33. Eternal Damnation of the Broken Mind

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><p>Fear. Loathing. Misery. Silent screaming. He was falling. Falling through the dark, all alone and lost. It was cold and barren and tangled and shrouded in a thick mist that left everything an incomprehensible mess. Every now and again flames licked around the outer vestiges of his vision, hot and burning for a flash and then leaving everything as cold and dark as before. Was that a howl in the distance? Was that a musty breath on the back of his neck? Oh God. Where was he? He didn't know. He didn't know!<p>

...he didn't want to know. Maybe if he shut his eyes tightly and clamped both hands over his ears everything would just stop and leave him alone.

Oh who was he kidding? When did that ever work?

Darkness. Flames. Confusion. The promise of pain. A maelstrom of memories, drowning him and sucking him in. Memories that nipped and bit and yet were never clear enough to be fought. He was lost. He was running. It was hopeless. He didn't know where he was.

And he was falling. Falling through space and unable to stop himself. It was dark. And cold. And frightening.

Then he was in utter blackness...a dark so deep that he couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. The air was stuffy. Hot and cramped and smelly. He was choking, suffocating on his own breath. He was fenced in. Claustrophobic. Thirsty. Starving. Dying.

"Help!" He tried to yell, though it came out as more of a rasping croak around the sandpaper in his throat. "Is anybody there?"

No answer.

Nothing but utter silence and the dark all around him.

He went mad, struggling and kicking and probably using up a lot of his air. He needed out. He needed OUT! He needed to get the hell out of wherever he was being held! The walls were closing in...he couldn't breath...oh God...oh God...help.

Finally he kicked out and caught something heavy with his foot. He felt around wildly for a moment, panting, and realised that it was a lid. So after a bit of panic wriggling and a mouthful of something mouldy, he got onto his hands and knees and put his shoulders into heaving up. Sweating. Straining. Feeling the heads of nails dig into his shoulder blades.

He looked back. Oh God. A coffin. He had been stuffed into a coffin!

He felt desperately along his neck and stomach, looking for sore, festering bites.

But there was nothing - his skin un-marred as ever and his heart pounding for no real reason. He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to slow the racing of his heart.

"Cool it. Stay cool. You're okay. You're just dreaming...probably."

When he opened his eyes again the scene had changed. Now instead of the dusty crypt he was in a small cell, lit by an invisible flickering fire.

Oh crap. Oh no. This couldn't be happening! He wasn't back here. He _wasn't_!

Writing in blood covered the walls, some still fresh and dripping...some dried to a sickly brown. The place smelled of raw meat, burning flesh, and sulphur. It was hot. It was freezing. It was dark. It was searingly bright.

"Hello, baby boy."

"M-mom?"

Half-afraid, half-sobbing he turned around to confront the slender figure standing there in bloody clothes, her blond hair drifting around her head like a halo. Her stomach slashed open. Her insides mangled. Her eyes full of pain. Blood everywhere. She was torn apart.

Memories of screams in the dark mingled with the hellfire and choked him. "Mom...is that really you?"

"How could you do this to me, son?"

He fell back as if slapped. "What?"

His mother glared at him, ethereal and beautiful in her pain and hatred. "This is all your fault." She hissed. "If you hadn't been born, I wouldn't have died."

"Mom, no!"

"Your very existence sucked the life right out of me. You are a disappointment...the sight of you disgusts me. I wish I had never met your father."

The words were like arrows, hurting more than any strokes of a knife could. He was frozen. All he could do was stand there with hot tears scorching his skin and his heart shattering again and again as his mother, the woman he had looked up to all his life, stood there like an avenging angel of terrible truth and stabbed him in the soul again and again.

"From the moment you were conceived my life was over. You are a cancer and when you were cast down into the depths of Hell you got what you deserved."

"Please...Mommy, no!"

"You still deny it? Open your eyes, son. Look at how you infect everything you touch. Look at how you are only remembered whenever you're needed for something. Look at how nobody cares. Not even me. I was a fool to ever give my life for you. Even your own brothers, your last remaining family, secretly can't stand the sight of you. They think you're a burden and you are. A millstone around their necks, you tainted freak! It would have been better for that archangel to wipe your soul from existence when he took you. To let you live was crueller."_  
><em>

"No..." Unable to stand under the barrage of cruel (and probably brutally truthful) words from the ghost of his mother, he sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands, trying to shut it all out. "Stop it. Stop it..._please_."

And, miraculously, she did stop.

Dead silence fell. It was so quiet he could _hear _the distant howls of Hellhounds. So quiet he could _hear _his own breathing and the pounding of his heart. So quiet he half-fancied that he could hear that same heart breaking into a million, irreparable pieces.

He could also smell it; tainted Grace and fire and ice and _evil_. No. NO! Nononono! He couldn't be back here. He _couldn't_! No! No! God, NO!

"You didn't really think that we'd let you escape, now did you, Adam?"

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><p><strong>Please read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	34. Crucio

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><p>"Dean. You need to go lay down for a while." Jody set down a plate of cheese crackers on the coffee table.<p>

Dean shoved a handful of the crackers into his mouth and shoved the plate aside in favour of reading in the book it had been set on. "I can't, Jody." He said, talking around his mouthful of crumbs and grease. "I'm not going to let my brothers die. I got them into this mess, so I've got to be the one to get them out."

"Now how do you figure that? I'm the one who suggested the case to you."

"Wasn't talking about the case. If it wasn't this then it would have been something else...that's just how our luck rolls."

Jody moved as if to pat his shoulder, but pulled back at the last moment. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know. And you really should lay down for a while. Even if you don't sleep, at least you can be resting on the couch for a while."

"I'm resting just fine with this research. Always seems to work for Sammy."

"Yeah." Jody snorted as she left the room. "That's why he's sleep-deprived most of the time and works himself into the ground the rest it."

Well...Dean couldn't argue with that observation.

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><p>Adam would have prayed to God if he still believed that the Father in Heaven was actually <em>in <em>Heaven, or was listening. As it stood, he bit his tongue and tried not to whimper as the former celestial beings circled him as he lay bound, eagle-spread on the cross of red-hot iron. He could feel the cold, icy vibes rolling off of Lucifer. He could feel the heat of Michael's flames.

"Oh, Adam, how we have missed you." Lucifer said in a soft, sympathetic, soothing voice. "Mikey and I have been _quite _desolate without our favourite pupil." Something sharp trailed its way down Adam's chest, coldly burning even through his shirt, and he gasped. The devil clucked. "Now, now...none of that. You've been sleeping for a while and we have a _lot _of catching up to do."

Somewhere on his right, Michael chuckled and Adam's blood ran cold. Lucifer was terrifying enough and always meant pain, but the times whenever Michael joined in were the times that Adam feared the most.

Michael was more inventive by far and his Grace, once brilliant and blinding to look at, had been tainted irreparably by years upon years of time spent in here in the depths of Hell being steeped in the evil and hatred and rage that dripped from the walls.

His anger had turned from being aimed solely at his younger brother and, more often than not, Adam was a convenient scapegoat. The only time the archangels agreed on anything it was on different ways to carve and slice him and then leave him broken and choking on his own bile and blood to slowly heal up enough that they could start all over again.

Nobody could escape from the Cage...not even by death, no matter how one screamed and pleaded for it.

The icy breath of Satan hit his neck and Adam shivered, biting his tongue to hold in a whimper. He knew what was coming next.

* * *

><p>"It's been two days, Dean. Maybe we should take them somewhere where we can care for them a little bit better. I mean," Jody rushed on as Dean opened his mouth to protest hotly, "Think about it - we're going to have to figure out how to feed them sooner or later."<p>

Dean growled in frustration. He wasn't getting _anywhere_! And Sam hadn't so much as twitched again. Where was that damn angel anyway? "Yeah, well, if it comes to that I'll just go one town over and rob a clinic or something."

The sheriff cleared her throat. "I heard nothing." She said pointedly and Dean shrugged helplessly. No way was he taking Sam and Adam to any type of medical facility. Not only could those piss-poor excuses for doctors not do anything that Dean couldn't damn well do himself right here in Jody's living room, but the last thing he needed was for either of his brothers to wake up screaming anything about 'Hell' or 'monsters'. That would earn them an immediate ticket to the psych ward...and the possibility of the authorities recognising two 'dead' fugitives. Taking Sam to the hospital after the Third Trial had been a choice of desperation. Hospitals were dangerous for more than one reason.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and tugged Sam's laptop closer, opening up another twenty tabs on 'comas' and 'sleeping sickness' and 'mythical curses' to check up on both the lore and the psychology of it all. He needed to figure out how to either wake Sam and Adam up or how to break the curse so they could wake up on their own because, much as he hated to admit it, Jody was right. They couldn't keep going like this.

Dean was deeply ensconced in an article on long-term comas (reminded rather painfully of Charlie's mother and wincing at the possibility of that happening to his brothers) when a groan made him snap his neck up and practically fall off of the couch to kneel next to the mattress.

"Sam? Sammy?"

Sam frowned and Dean jumped as, across the room, a vase shattered.

Oh dear. "Zeke?"

"oo'szek?"

Oh crap! "Uh, nothing. Sammy. How are you feeling!" Sam just grimaced, shifting restlessly. Dean put a hand on his forehead (to test his temperature, of course...not to run his fingers through Sam's hair, no, never, that would be sappy) and frowned. "Sammy? Can you hear me?" Sam's eyes fluttered open for a second, but didn't focus on Dean's face and looked rather wild. "Sammy? Hey, dude. Sam! Anybody home?"

"Dean? What's going on?"

Jody stepped in through the door and Dean could _feel _the change in Sam as instantly every muscle in his brother's body tensed and Sam's eyes instantly widened. Dean's coffee mug exploded and he ducked, trying to shield Sam and Adam's faces from the shards with his back. Jody let out an _"OOF!" _as she was flung back against the doorjamb and held there.

Dean stared as Sam struggled to sit up, panting and eyes rolling as his deeply-ingrained and trained fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. Had that been Sam or Ezekiel doing that? Sam _was _slightly telekinetic, after all, though Dean was POSITIVE that Sam hadn't used the abilities willingly for _years _and had never used telekinesis intentionally. Maybe it was just one last hurrah? Or a side-effect of being hit with a curse and being possessed by an angel?

Either way...what the hell?

"Whoa, easy there, Sam!" He said, putting a hand on Sam's chest and pushing him back down (it wasn't as difficult as it should have been...) "Breath. It's just Jody."

Sam fought against him weakly for a moment before his head turned and he caught sight of Adam. "No." Sam muttered, shaking his head in something that might have been denial or might have been confusion. "No..."

And with that he went limp again, so fast that it sent Dean scrabbling for a pulse and Jody (freed from her place against the doorjamb) frantically asking if all was all right.

"He's fine." Dean said, hoping that he was right. "He's just under again."

"Good. Now d'you want to tell me what the hell that was?"

Dean swore and got to his feet, turning and starting to clean up the ceramic and saving his papers from the small amount of coffee that had been left in the mug. "Sammy's, well, he's kind of psychic."

Jody put one hand on her hip and smirked. "You do realise that that is the cheesiest of cheesy, clichéd pick-up lines, don't you?"

That got her a scowl from Dean, but even he couldn't be upset at her attempts to lighten the moment. "Yeah, well, I meant it literally. It all started shortly before he left college and we've had issues with it on-and-off for years." He left out the whole 'drinking demon blood' bit...Jody didn't need to know that and it had little to do with Sam blowing up a vase and a coffee mug with his mind.

She sighed. "Well...we'll deal with it as it comes, I suppose. For now, I'll go get a rag and clean this lot up."

"You don't have to do that, Jody. I'm used to cleaning up after Sam."

"I'm sure you are. But you need to get back to your research and I can clean my own damn carpet."

* * *

><p>"You know what really amazes me about you humans?" Lucifer said above Adam's gasping breaths, wiping his blade off on Adam's hair. "It is your thirst for knowledge and your ability to hope. Tempting Eve was child's play. All I had to do was offer her some unknown knowledge that she believed Father was keeping from her on purpose and she was putty in my hands." He dragged the knife down Adam's torso again, drawing out a strangled scream and smiling. "But then you didn't have the good sense to just roll over and die like you should have. When Father had dear old Michael here cast me out of Heaven some of my brothers were loyal to me and followed my descent. They are all dead now...dead at my hand, dead at Michael's hand, dead at their own hand, it doesn't matter. Angels die and demons wither and monsters fight forever in Purgatory until their souls are no more, but you humans dare to hope. You fight for something greater than what you can see. You thirst for knowledge. You create worlds and inventions of your own. In fact, all you have to do to torture someone is to give them hope and then brutally crush it. Because they will fall for the same trick again and again. Sound familiar, Adam."<p>

"G-go to Hell."

"Already there. Can't get much more hellish than this. But, I have to say, this is getting boring." The devil looked at Michael. "Do you have the nails?"

Chest burning and aching with every breath that stretched the cuts, Adam watched from the corner of his eyes as the eldest archangel nodded and held out his hands to reveal two red-hot nails (closer to spikes, actually) that made Lucifer break out into a wide smile that wouldn't have looked out of place on a shark version of Jafar.

"Now hold still." Lucifer was saying. "This may sting a bit."

He lowered the nails over Adam's wrist so that the tips were scraping his skin and raised a hammer to nail them through flesh and bone...

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><p><strong>Please read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	35. Deliver Us From Evil

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><p>Lucifer stopped just shy of hitting the nail home, making Adam jerk in painful anticipation. "You know." The fallen archangel said thoughtfully, tapping his chin with the hammer. "I can never really understand why you lot wear a crucifix around your neck." He snorted. "Now an electric chair, <em>that <em>would make a sensation, but a cross? Bitch, please."

"Look." Adam spit, muscles aching from his constant state of tension. "If you're going to c-crucify me...literally...please could you just do it? Your voice is giving me a headache."

There was a snort from Michael and Lucifer's face darkened with anger, twisting into something truly monstrous.

Adam gulped. His stupid mouth! He was really in for it now.

He struggled vainly against his bonds and tried to gather enough spittle in his dry mouth to hopefully hit ol' Lucy in the eye. It was the least he could do.

Michael made a sound that was about as close to an annoyed grunt as an angel could produce and came over, grabbing Adam's shoulders and pinning him down. "Hold still and stop snivelling over nothing or I'll give you something to cry about."

Adam opened his mouth to defend himself the only way he could, with a snarky retort, whenever there was the crack of a gunshot and Michael exploded into a puff of smoke as grains of salt rained down on Adam. What the hell? Adam followed the other archangel's stunned and enraged stare through the dissipating smoke to where Sam stood, shotgun at the ready and a dark glare on his face. "Step away from my brother, _Lucifer_." He snarled, finger on the trigger.

"And what if I say nosssghggle..." Lucifer too was blasted away by a shot from Sam and Adam grunted as the cross, the nails, and the Cage disappeared into the 'snow' TV channel all above and below and around.

"Adam!" Suddenly there were hands on his shoulders, pulling him up and patting his cheeks a bit harder than necessary. "Adam, hey, dude. You with me?"

"How the hell did you do that?"

Sam let go of him, shrugging and letting him clamber to his feet and feel urgently at his chest for the non-existent wounds. "It's just in your head." Sam said. "This is all in your head."

"What?"

"You're dreaming." Sam tucked the gun under his arm so he could run a hand through his hair. "I think we've been cursed."

Adam shook his head, wiggling a finger in his ear. "Come again?"

"Oh for the love of God, come on!" And Sam caught Adam by the wrist, tugging him at a rush through a door that had just appeared in the wall. "We've got to keep moving."

"Okay, fine. But why? What's going on? And how the HELL did you shoot L-Lucifer in the head like that?"

"I told you, this is all happening in your head." They went through another door and found themselves in Adam's old living room. Right where the damn ghoul that had looked like his mother jumped him and took a bite out of his neck.

Adam winced. "Right, okay, I've got that bit. But how are _you _in _my_ head?"

"I came to get you." Sam replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

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><p>"DAMMIT!" Dean threw the bowl of cheese sticks across the room and snatched up his phone, angrily punching in a number. "Kevin?<p>

"Hi, Dean. Hey, listen, I've got something to tell you."

"Not now, Kevin."

"But I just got an e-mail from Garth and - "

"I SAID NOT NOW!" Kevin audibly winced and Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a calming breath. "Listen, Kevin. I need to you research something for me. I need you to go into the library and cross-reference 'witches', 'nightmares', and 'angelic possession'."

"What the hell?"

"Just do it. It's for a case."

Kevin cleared his throat. "I'll do it, but I really think this is more up Sam's alley - "

"Yeah, maybe. But seeing as how he's currently laying on Sheriff Mills' living room floor, deep in Freddy Kreuger land, I need _you _to comb the archives for something. Anything."

"Okay, Dean. I'm on it."

"Call me back the SECOND you find something."

"Got it." With that, Kevin hung up with a click and Dean tossed his phone aside, burying his face in his hands.

Sam hadn't moved since his psychic episode that morning, lying pale and still and eerily reminiscent of how he had lain in Bobby's panic room after the Wall in his head crumbled into a million irreparable pieces and let all of Hell spill through. Dean didn't even want to _think _about what horrors Sam might be seeing now, trapped in his own head, alone and afraid.

And then there was Adam, lying by Sam's side. Unlike Sam who hadn't so much as twitched, Adam seemed to be struggling against something. He went from still as the dead to whimpering and shifting restlessly, face screwed up in pain and tears leaking from under his lids in a show of weakness that _never _would have been shown had he been awake.

Two days they had been like this (nearing on three) and Dean was only closer to finding a solution in the sense that he had eliminated many useless leads. It was Sam in the mental hospital and the search for what would end up being a reborn Castiel all over again. It was torture.

No. What Sam and Adam were going through was torture. Dean had no right to complain. He just had to get working again.

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><p>"So what you're saying, Sam, is that we're trapped inside our own heads because of some damn witch who put a curse on us to make us relieve every nightmare we've ever had so she can, what, drain our life force or something?"<p>

"Yeah."

"Dude. That is SO something out of a bad fanfiction!"

Sam paused in his salting of the living room parameters to frown. "Fanfiction?"

Adam blushed. "Oh shut up." He said. "I had a girlfriend who was OBSESSED with The Phantom of the Opera and she was always going on about it and reading the damn stuff. Never quite understood the appeal, but she was hot so I didn't complain."

"Mmm."

"So what do we do? Sit around in here and vegetate until we starve to death?"

"No." Sam came over and flopped down in the armchair. "But we do need to figure out how to get back to my head and then wake ourselves up. It's quiet for now, but we can't hold the curse off forever. Maybe it's just taking longer to really sink its hooks in because we're both adults? I mean, most of those who were taken before were kids."

"Maybe..."

"Either way, we need to get out. Both of us have enough horror stuffed in our heads to kill us very quickly once it starts to take effect again. But if we get back into my head, I think I can control it some. I've done dreamwalking before, and this can't be _too _different."

Adam shrugged. "Well, you're the expert."

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><p><strong>If you're reading and enjoying this story, please do review. Feedback is GREATLY appreciated! :)<strong>


	36. Is This Reality Or Just A Fevered Dream?

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><p><strong>Kevin - <strong>

**Hey, partner, how's it going?**

**Yeah. Of COURSE you can come and stay with me. Trust me, I know how The Hair and The Jawline can be (tip: they're really just big ol' teddy bears inside if you can get past their grizzly exterior shells) and if you think you forgive me for the whole houseboat fiasco (I really don't know what happened there...that place should have been impregnable) then you are MORE THAN welcome to come and stay with me and the wife. Bess is already trying to figure out your favourite dishes so she can learn how to cook 'em.**

**So, yeah, if you don't mind our little furry issues (seriously...we're only fluffy and bitey a couple nights of the month) then we have a furbished attic in the farmhouse all warded up and ready for you to come and store your Tablets and prophet-y stuff in.**

**Lemme know whenever you want to move in.**

**Garth Fitzgerald IV**

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><p>"Oh f - !" Kevin broke off the curse word with a yelp of pain as he stubbed his toe off of a pile of books and hopped around the library, clutching the throbbing appendage and gritting his teeth. That hurt!<p>

His phone rang and he lurched forward, diving across the mess he had made and fumbling for the 'answer' button. "Dean? I'm sorry, I would have called sooner, but - "

"I am not Dean."

For a moment Kevin's heart was in his mouth at the gravelly voice on the other side of the line before he registered the lack of oily British accent and realised that it was Castiel, not Crowley. "Oh, uh, hello, Castiel."

Well this was awkward.

"I'm sensing...awkwardness." The former angel said. "Are you watching porn?"

Kevin nearly spat out the mouthful of coffee in his mouth and, as it stood, spent nearly a full thirty seconds coughing and convincing the bitter liquid not to go up his nose instead. Why was an angel asking him about porn?! What the hell?

"Are you quite all right, Kevin?"

"Y-yes." Kevin gasped, frantically blowing his nose and grimacing. "What do you want?"

"I was looking for Dean, but he's not answering his phone." Castiel said stiffly.

"Well Dean's not here. He and Sam and Adam are on a case."

Castiel cleared his throat on the other end of the line. "How are they all doing?"

"What?" Why was he asking _Kevin_? _  
><em>

"I know that I will never get a straight answer out of either Sam or Dean and Adam is avoiding me, so I am asking you. How are they doing?"

"Ummm...fine? I think? I don't know. Dean has me researching some sort of curse that Sam is apparently sleeping off and angelic possession...speaking of which, do you have any insights on how that might be connected to a curse or something? Or affect a curse? I'm finding squat here in the library. These Men of Letters only talk about angels in theory. They don't really seem to know much about you guys."

"I am not an angel any more."

Ouch. Whoops. "I know. But, uh, you were for longer than you've been human? So could you possibly help me? Please? Dean's going to chew my head off if I don't give him some answers soon."

There was a pause...

"What do you want to know?"

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><p>"Damn it all, Sammy. Wake up! I can't do this without you, little brother."<p>

But of course Sam didn't answer. Neither he or Adam had moved all night, except for the shallow rise and fall of their chests as they still - thankfully - drew breath.

Dean's eyes were aching and he dug his knuckles into them. He couldn't sleep. He COULDN'T! Every second that he spent watching Sam and Adam sleep, making sure that they were still breathing and researching how to help them, was precious. He couldn't waste any of them by succumbing to the siren call of sleep.

Besides. What if the curse took him too while he dozed? He was their brother, after all, and nowhere in any of the reports had it said that it was limited to just two siblings. If Dean fell under, who would take care of them? Jody would try, of course, but she wasn't a hunter and she was't Dean.

So no. He couldn't let himself sleep. He'd just...he'd just have to drink some more coffee, that's all.

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><p>Sam and Adam sat in Adam's memory living room, breathing deeply and trying to gather strength for the mad dash through what was sure to be shark-infested waters back to Sam's head. Adam wasn't sure how he felt about getting inside Sam's mind...but if it meant no ghouls popping out at inopportune moments or no more hallucinations of the last way he had seen his mother (half-eaten and bloody) then he would race forward with arms outstretched.<p>

"How long do you think we've been in here?" He asked Sam.

"No idea. How long did it feel for you?"

Adam shrugged. "Well, I was deeply in the clutches of...of Them, so it felt like about a year."

There was a sympathetic wince from Sam. He knew _exactly _what Adam was talking about. Then a cold wind picked up, rattling all the windows and scattering the edges of the thick salt lines. Instantly Sam tensed, leaning forward in his chair and prepared to bolt. Adam mirrored his posture. "Do you hear that?" Sam whispered.

Adam listened and...oh no. He heard _exactly _what his brother was talking about. "Hellhounds!"

"Adam. This is your mind...can you banish them?"

"Are you crazy?!" His heart was pounding in his throat, choking him, and his legs itched to begin running. "Who do you think I am? The Sandman?" He pinched his arm, hoping that maybe it would wake him up. If they were torn to pieces in this dream, would they die in real life?

"You have to try, Adam."

"Don't you think I would if I could?" Adam demanded. "I would have kicked Lucy and Michelle's asses SO HARD before if I could have."

"Then you didn't know it was a dream."

The howls were getting louder, practically snarling at the door now. Adam got to his feet.

"I'm not entirely convinced now." He said. "I've never done acid, but I have been in...in downstairs. And this feels suspiciously like some of the games They used to like to play with us. How the hell do we know what's real and what's not? Are _you _real?"

"Yes!"

"That's exactly what a hallucination would say."

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><p><strong>I want to say a HUGE thank-you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story. The feedback is so appreciated and it is wonderful to know that something I have enjoyed writing so much is also something that you all are liking to read. You literally make my day. Thank you. :)<strong>


	37. Run, Adam, Run!

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><p>"Adam, for God's sake, calm down!"<p>

"Calm? Who? Me? I'm perfectly calm! Absolutely, totally, entirely calm. I'm just inside my head being stalked by hallucinogenic Hellhounds and having a calming and rational discussion with the overgrown moose - "

"Hey!"

" - who calls himself my older brother and who may or may not be real. And, AND, I just found myself strung up like a puppet with the Douchebag Duo of Michelle and Lucy in the 'flesh' getting ready to crucify and probably eviscerate me. Oh yeah. I'm _fine_! I'm perfectly calm! Why on earth wouldn't I be...OW!" He stumbled back, clutching his cheek where Sam had full-on slapped him. "What the hell was that for?"

"You were panicking. And, in case you haven't noticed, we've got a pack of hungry Hellhounds that are imminent?" Sam said, trying in vain to fix the salt lines. "We should probably run. Unless you'd rather stay here and be torn to pieces."

No. Of course he didn't. But, still, what if this wasn't Sam? What if it was another trick, like the Cage had been?

Sam saw his hesitation and sighed. "Look, Adam." He said wearily. "I don't care if you don't believe me. Hell...I don't blame you for being cautious. But right now I'm your best chance of surviving this, so you need to trust me."

The howls and snarls were almost deafening now, scratching at the doors until he could almost feel their hot, putrid breath on the back of his neck. Adam swallowed hard. "Yeah, sure. Fine." He said to the thing that might be Sam. "Not saying I trust you or anything...but I kind of like life, shitty as mine has been. So what do we need to do?"

"Run."

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><p>"Kevin, I swear to God, you'd better have some good news for me!" Dean was about ready to start snorting fire. Three days and there were no leads. Why hadn't Zeke done something for Sam? What had gone so wrong?<p>

"I, uh, I talked to Castiel." Kevin said. "He's been looking for you."

"Yeah, I know. Probably wants to ask for advice on how to get into his boss' pants again. Ignore him. What have you found?"

Kevin cleared his throat. "Well, I went through the library and searched up everything I could find on witches and sleeping spells and something that might affect a guy like Sam without needing a hex bag, just like you said."

"Siblings, Kevin, siblings. I thought you were supposed to be in Advanced Placement! I said it affects siblings!"

"So Adam got it too?"

"Yeah. And if you use that as a reason to research more slowly - "

"What? NO! God, Dean, give me some credit!" Kevin sounded hurt. "I don't like the guy, but I sure as HELL don't wish him dead. Who do you think I am?"

Dean ran a hand over his face. "What have you found?"

"Well, I didn't really find much about witches and nightmares...aside from something labelled the 'Sleeping Beauty Hex' that literally can only be broken by true love's kiss. But it usually only affects young virgins and, uh, that doesn't apply to Sam and Adam, does it?"

"Sam, no. Adam...I honestly don't know. Probably not." Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily.

"Okay. Then it's not that. Can I tell you what Castiel said? I asked him about the angelic possession bit."

Dean tensed. Oh crap. Did Kevin know? Did that prophet know what he had done? No. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to discuss it with Sam and the two of them deal with it like they always did. Damn Cas and his verbal diarrhoea! "What did he say?"

* * *

><p>They were in another room - one that looked like the gym of the middle school Adam had attended. The one where Peter Falkin had attempted to pull his pants down in front of the sixth grade girls. The one where he had been slammed into the bleachers by a couple of fifth graders that were about 120 pounds of blubber and muscle and needed to shave twice a day. The one that felt like a scene out of Diary Of A Wimpy Kid...not that he had been wimpy or anything. No. Of course not.<p>

"I don't like this, Sam."

"Yeah, I know." Sam said, kicking the edge of the peeling bleachers experimentally. "It's quiet. Too quiet."

"No shit, Sherlock. Where the hell are the Hellhounds?"

"Gone for now, I think. Gives us a breather, at least."

"I don't like it." Adam said flatly. "All this means is that we can't hear them any-more. If there's a wasp in the room, I'd like to know where."

Sam's expression was bitchy. "Well we're in _your _head, so if you want to do a little Legolas-eyes thing and figure out where the Hounds of Satanville have gone off to, then be my guest."

"Shut up."

Sam did just that, poking his way around the edges of the gym, presumably trying to figure out what would happen next. Adam bent over and tried to keep his cool. If they were really inside his head (and he still wasn't entirely certain that he hadn't eaten something screw-y and given himself the granddaddy of all LSD nightmares) then maybe he could control things a bit. Not to the degree Sam seemed to want him to, but the least he could do was not hyperventilate, right? Or think of...certain stages of his afterlife. The last thing they needed was for Them to show up again.

"Um, Sam?" Adam said as Sam poked his finger experimentally into the pile of spare basket-ball nets. "How exactly are we going to get, uh, back into your mind?"

"No idea."

"Oh, well, good to know."

A howl sounded in the distance.

"Dammit!" Sam complained. "Don't those damn things ever give up?"

Adam snorted. "You know full well that they don't." He said. "At least not until they've ripped us to ribbons they won't. I've had this dream before."

"It's not a dream, Adam."

"Yeah. I know. But if I don't call it a memory, then I can pretend it never happened. Let's just imagine that we all played poker and drank shots down in...downstairs, okay? I'm having a hard enough time not calling up a memory of fire with a side of brimstone as it is, thanks."

Sam winced. "C'mon. We'd better get moving again." He held out his hand. "Stay close."

"I feel like I'm at a freaking slumber party." Adam grumbled, but grabbed hold of Sam's hand and let his brother pull him forward, though the gym doors and back into the jagged mess of memories and broken dreams that was his mind.

Was he absolutely certain that they weren't in Hell again?

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><p><strong>Please read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	38. Don't Get Too Close, It's Dark Inside

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><p>"Sam? I don't think it worked. This looks like a college dorm and, while I can't say I've ever seen it before, I <em>did <em>spend a _bit _of time drunk and with the co-eds, so..."

"Shut up, Adam."

Sam's voice was frosty and it made Adam stop and frown. "Um...you okay, dude?" It felt awkward to be asking Sam this (especially if Sam really was just a glorified figment of Adam's twisted imagination) but he couldn't stay silent. "Seriously. Where are we?"

His question was answered whenever the door opened and a younger, ganglier, more dorky-looking version of Sam came through the door and flopped down on the bed with a thump. _"Screw Algebra."_ He muttered.

Adam looked at Sam (his Sam), "Okay, I am officially lost. What's going on here?"

"I don't know exactly." Sam replied, looking just as confused as Adam felt. "This is...this is different. It's a memory." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what's changed, but we're stuck in a memory now."

_"Sam?" _Adam and...well, and Sam turned around to see the dorm door open and two other boys come in. One was a frighting combination of starch and hair product, managing to look both douche-y and polished, and the other was a dark-skinned kid wearing a brilliant blue fedora.

Beside Adam, Sam physically flinched. "Oh, Brady." Adam heard him whisper and sneaked a look at Sam's face.

Sam looked like he'd just been punched in the gut. With brass knuckles. And maybe a few spikes.

And, yes, Adam _did _have a context for knowing what that would look like.

_"Hey, buddy, you still alive?" _Not-Fedora asked, speaking to the motionless form on the bed.

_"Unfortunately, yes." _Young Sam groaned and rolled over. _"Screw Algebra. I probably failed."_

Fedora rolled his eyes. _"Yeah, sure. Because you ONLY studied until two in the morning last night. Geeze, dude, lighten up! It's just a test!"_

_"Logan won't shut up about you keeping him awake humming Metallica or whatever. Between this and all the salt you've spread around the place...you're lucky he hasn't complained to the dorm parent."_

_"Gotta keep my GPA up. Oh God...I'm going to fail!"_

Older Sam stared at his younger self and muttered something about 'drama queens'. Despite their situation, Adam couldn't quite stifle his grin. Yes. Younger Sam really _was _over-dramatic. No WONDER Dean teased him about being a girl!

And, Adam had to say, so far he preferred Sam's memories to his own. At least this was just college kids (So Sam actually had gone to college and all?) bitching at each other. Nothing too scary there.

_"Ah, don't worry about it. Einstein Winchester here'll have the perfect score on that test. Just you wait and see."_

With that, the people (hallucinations? spectres? ghosts?) faded right away, leaving Sam and Adam alone in the dorm room that suddenly grew shadowy and blurred.

"This can't be good."

Sam shot Adam an annoyed look. "What do you want, a cookie?"

"Touchy, touchy!"

* * *

><p>"So, yeah. That's what I found out from Castiel. Still don't understand why you need to know about angelic possession, though. I thought you said this was a witch case."<p>

"It was, yeah. I'm just, uh, trying to look from all angles." Dean sighed. "Look, Kevin, I need you to do one more thing for me and then you go get some sleep, okay?"

"Just drank three Red Bulls." Kevin replied. "So I'm good for a while. What do you need now?"

"Go down to the storerooms. There should be one (room 234, I think) that has a bunch of herbs and potions and stuff. Full-on JK Rowling crap."

There was some noise from the other end of the line and then, "Okay. Found it. Y'know, you guys REALLY need to dust every once and a while..."

"Focus, Kevin, focus." Every minute they wasted was another minute he couldn't put his plan into action and yet another minute that Adam and Sam were trapped inside of their own heads, suffering through a curse that apparently even a freaking _angel _couldn't (or wouldn't...damn him) break them free from. "You need to see if you can find anything labelled 'dreamroot'."

"Dreamroot?"

"Yeah." Adam twitched, brow furrowing in distress. "I gotta go, Kevin. Call me back whenever you find something."

* * *

><p>Inside their minds, the two sleeping brothers travelled on, looking for the way out of this labyrinth. It was dark and shadowy and looked suspiciously like a forest that had had all of the colour bleached out of it and Adam was almost certain that they were now definitely in Sam's mind because HE'D certainly never seen this before. Not even...downstairs.<p>

"Um, Sam?" Adam ventured, wondering if Sam was still pissed at him from earlier. "Can I ask you something?"

Sam looked over his shoulder with a frown. "Yeah, sure, I guess."

"Well, assuming that you really are Sam and not just some loony product of my imagination - " That earned him a roll of the eyes from Sam. " - who the hell were those guys back there? And did you really go to college."

"I went to Stanford. Pre-law." Sam said quietly, slowing down so he and Adam were walking side-by-side. "Those guys were some of my, uh, acquaintances. Luis Dawson and Tyson Brady." Sam's lips were tight whenever he said the last name. "But I don't see them any-more."

"Ah, well. I was in pre-med before I ran into those damn - "

"LOOK OUT!"

Adam hit the dirt face-first as Sam dragged him down. There was a bang from Sam's shotgun and a snarl as something that looked uncannily like a younger (but still older than the College version and even more built than now) version of Sam fell back against a tree and vanished.

Breathing hard and looking shaken, Sam held out a hand and helped Adam to his feet. "Sorry about that." He said. "Didn't think we'd run into him."

"Your mind is a creepy-ass place to be, you know that?"

* * *

><p>"How are they, Dean?" Jody poked her head into the living room, still dressed in her work uniform but with an apron wrapped around her. "Any change? At all?"<p>

"No."

She smiled flatly. "Well...maybe that's a good thing? At least they haven't gotten any worse."

Dean shrugged. In his private opinion, both of them were starting to look a bit drawn and haggard, but maybe he was just overreacting. They had held out fairly well. He had to stay calm. He would fix this. He WOULD! Just as soon as Kevin got back to him about the dreamroot...

"I'm making meatball sandwiches for supper. Do you want me to bring yours in here?"

"Sure. Thanks, Jody."

"I figured you didn't want to leave them." She said. "Be back in a couple of minutes."

Dean leaned forward and shoved a few papers off of the coffee table to make room for the food. "Need any help?" He called.

"Nope! You stay with your brothers." Jody called back. "If anything changes, you should be right there."

* * *

><p>"I wouldn't open that if I were you."<p>

Adam snatched his hand back from the doorknob and frowned. "What? Why not?"

"Just don't. It's my mind, you should trust me whenever I say that you should leave a room alone. Unless you WANT to be devoured by the nightmares that the curse can call up?"

"No."

They were now standing in the kitchen of a shabby apartment that, had it not been dark and shadowy, probably would have been comfortable. Sam seemed slightly jumpy, but made himself at home...sitting down at the table and checking the different parts of his gun. The kitchen was not lit, but Adam could see a bright, flickering light underneath the door that apparently led into a bedroom. Yet Sam had told him not to go in there. Why not? It was just another room...and at least there they'd see the spooks coming!

"Sam, seriously. What's in there?"

"None of your business!" Sam snapped, looking up with a surprisingly intimidating glare. "I didn't go poking around in _your _head any more than I had to, did I? Leave that alone!"

Adam held up both hands placatingly. "Fine, fine." He said.

Then Young Sam from the college memory was back, standing there wreathed in sickly light and staring mournfully at his older counterpart. "Why, Sam?" He asked mournfully. "Why did you have to do this to us?"

"You're not real." Sam said coldly, getting to his feet and clicking the safety off of the gun.

The other Sam smiled sadly. "Maybe I'm not flesh and blood...but I'm real. And I'm always here, inside of you."

Adam couldn't help himself. He snorted. "That sounded vaguely dirty."

Both Sams shot him a dirty look. "You can get the hell out of here." His Sam said to the other. "I shot us before, I'll gladly do it again."

"Oh, but Sam. You know that you can never scrub me out. I'm a part of us and I always will be...or have you forgotten what you are?" He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, Adam was shocked to see that the Other Sam's eyes were glowing a brilliant yellow.

Beside him, His Sam stiffened. "Go away." He said and, not even bothering to aim, shot the head off of the apparition. The Other Sam exploded into a flash of sparkles (that, for some weird reason, made the real Sam wince) and Adam's arm was grabbed once again as he was dragged off. "C'mon. We need to keep moving."

"So any idea of how to get out of here?"

"No. But if we keep moving maybe we can dodge the worst of the curse's effects until we can figure it out."

And so they ran, exiting the apartment and falling through space again until they hit bottom in the Bunker shooting range. Now it was bright - too bright - and Adam felt a chill from the cement walls that surrounded them. When would this nightmare be over? He just wanted to go and be at peace!

"Well, Sam, I was wondering when we would meet again."

Sam and Adam whirled around to see a strange man with almost-red hair, leaning against one of the pillars.

"Who the hell are you?" Sam demanded.

Oh crap. Sam had no idea who this was. What if they couldn't beat him? What if he was like the BOSS on a video game? What if this was the curse?

Sam growled. "I asked you a question. Who the HELL are you?!"

"My name is Gadreel."

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><p><strong>Please do read &amp; review! It is much appreciated... :)<strong>


	39. Letting The Angel Out Of The Bag

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><p>"Dean? I found it."<p>

"Right. Good. Now I want you to take the keys to the jeep and come meet me in Sioux Falls. Break the speed limit when you can, but don't get pulled over...got it? I need that dreamroot a.s.a.p."

"Okay, Dean, I'm on my way."

"And don't get pulled over! You're still technically wanted as a runaway/possible kidnapee. The last thing we need is to get the Feds - the real Feds - involved again because you couldn't avoid a bear in the bushes."

"I know, Dean."

"And hurry!"

"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying."

* * *

><p>"Who the hell are you?" Sam demanded, shotgun cocked and trained on the individual who called himself 'Gadreel'.<p>

"I'm only here to help, Sam."

"Well I don't care if you're here to build the freaking Taj Mahal! Get the hell out of my head."

"Are you so sure you want me to go? Maybe I'm the only thing holding you together." Gadreel smiled grimly at the stunned look on Sam's face. "Oh. Did you think that you just suddenly woke up one day and felt all better? That Saint Dean patched you up all nice and healthy again?"

Sam hissed, dropping the gun (which promptly vanished...oh crap) and digging his thumbnail into his palm. "You're not real." He said through gritted teeth. "Go away."

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam."

"You're not real."

Adam looked between Gadreel and Sam. What the hell was going on?

"I am real, Sam. I am the angel who healed you."

"No...no. Dean says I slept it off. We ran from the hospital and I woke up in my room." Gadreel shook his head and Sam snarled with anger. "Stop it!"

"I healed you, Sam. Dean called to me and I came."

Sam drew himself up, looking very pale and eyes glittering with anger. "Okay, fine. Say you really are telling me the truth? If you're really an angel, then how are you in my head? I sure as hell would never say 'Yes' to another one of you winged douchebags. Not after Lucifer."

"Oh you said Yes, Sam. You just don't remember it..."

* * *

><p>"Dean? Um...I have to ask. Do you know a guy named 'Kevin Tran'?"<p>

Dean sighed and closed his eyes, leaning forward to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was _tired_. "Yeah. What about it?"

"Well," Jody sounded almost amused from the other end of the line, "I caught him going 120 in a 45 zone. In a stolen jeep. And isn't he the kid that was kidnapped a couple of years ago?"

"It's...it's a long story, Jody."

"Yeah. I figured as much. Which is why I'm going to give him a lift back to my house instead of marching his ass down to the station. Are you there?"

"I was just about to go and meet him. But, uh, this'll be great. Means I won't have to leave my brothers."

Jody sighed. "Right, well, I really should be arresting him - especially seeing how he took out a couple of newly-planted landscaping trees by the library whenever he pulled over - but he says he needs to give you something, so see you in about fifteen minutes or so."

"See you."

* * *

><p>Sam swore, long and vile, and kicked out in anger. "That lying, invading son of a BITCH!"<p>

Gadreel had snapped his fingers and, with a flash of light, sent both brothers away from him and into something that looked like a still shabbier (or, shabbier than what Adam remembered) version of that Bobby guy's kitchen. Adam could remember it like it was yesterday, sitting there with Sam and being angry because Sam and Dean were keeping him from his true destiny...

...what an idiot he had been.

"So, uh, what are we going to do?"

Sam stopped his abuse of the kitchen door and walked over, sitting down opposite Adam at the small table. "What are we going to do about Gadreel?"

"Yeah." Adam said and Sam answered only with a shrug. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know, okay? I've not exactly ever done this before and I was flying by the skin of my teeth before as it was. I've done dreamwalking before...but it was years ago and I think maybe I had help back then and I've never done it whenever there is a curse AND and angel factored in and WHY THE HELL CAN'T I DAMN WELL CONTROL MY OWN MIND?!"

Adam was proud of himself for not flinching at Sam's outburst. He couldn't afford to be craven now. "Well...why don't you just get rid of the angel?"

"What?"

"Look, uh, you said you've never had this happen to you before? Well I kind of have. Whenever M - " He stopped and took a deep breath. "Whenever Michael possessed me, he did this all the time. He, uh..."

"Are you okay talking about this, Adam?"

Adam snorted. "Well I sure as hell will have to be if we're going to figure this out! I don't want to be stuck inside of you for longer than I have to be...and that sounded REALLY dirty!"

Sam rolled his eyes reflexively. "Okay. So you're saying that Michael used to do this to you?"

"Yeah. The whole consent and 'saying Yes' is a big thing with the angels. If a vessel at any time retracts their consent and takes back control of their mind, the angel is forced to leave and can't come back until the vessel says a definitive 'Yes' again. Michael couldn't afford me doing that so he'd send me off into little corners of my mind because he didn't want me retracting my consent and forcing him to leave. He kept me far away from himself so that, even whenever I could see what was going on, I couldn't get to him to wrestle back control or whatever."

"So how will that help us?"

"Gadreel is trying to do the exact same thing. He's been keeping us locked away in these little worlds and I'll be willing to be anything that those blank places we stumbled through were places where he erased your memory. Trust me. I've been possessed by a douche-y angel too."

"Right."

"But he's not an archangel, Sam. Didn't you see the reflection of his wings whenever he smote us over here? Only one pair."

"Yeah? What about it?"

Adam leaned forward. "He's not as strong as Lucifer. If you could take control back from the Devil, then sure as HELL you can cast that feathery dick right out of your mind and body."

"I suppose so."

"You...you SUPPOSE so?!" Sam shrugged again and Adam banged his fist on the table aghast. "Sam...what the hell? Do you WANT some angel poking around in your brain? After what the freaking DEVIL did to you?"

Sam glared. "Of course I'm not wild about the idea! I want nothing more than to kick him in the face."

"Then what is it?"

"What if he's keeping the curse away?"

"Right, uh, I'm not following, Stanford-Sam. What?"

Sam sighed. "Look, Adam. How much screwed up crap have we encountered since I found you, uh - "

"Being sliced 'n diced?"

"...yeah, if you want to call it that. But, since then, honestly how much have we encountered?"

Actually, now that Adam thought about it, not a whole lot. Oh sure there had been the occasional Hellhound pack in the distance and about thirteen different alternate versions of Sam, both memories and obstacles like in freaking _Scott Pilgrim,_ that had to be taken out...but other than that there really hadn't been much. Which was strange because Adam was SURE that Sam's mind was just as messed up as (or possibly more messed up than) his own. So where was the hellfire? Where were the monsters? The worst they'd encountered was Dean doing...something probably mildly illegal with two blonds in a crappy motel room.

Both Adam and Sam had fled rather hurriedly from that one and studiously avoided looking at each other for the next three rooms they went through.

"Sam, look, even if Gadreel really IS keeping the curse away from us...he still needs to go. Trust me. I think I can handle anything some damn witch tries to throw at us."

"Adam." Sam said softly. "Everybody who was cursed before...they died. They died because their hearts couldn't take the stress from the horrors of their worst nightmares and memories playing on a neverending loop. And those were people who had never been downstairs or seen half of the crap that you and I have. It'll probably kill us faster, if we're lucky."

"Well screw that. It's not like I've never died before, Sam. You get over there and you cast that punk-ass, damn holy roller out! Then we'll figure out how to wake up and we can forget this ever happened."

* * *

><p>"Kevin! It's about time you got here!"<p>

"Screw you, Dean, I came as fast as I could."

Jody shoved Kevin in through the door. "Stop your bickering." She said. "He's not lying. You, young man, are lucky that I don't just write you up on principle. What do you think you are, a NASCAR star? Next time it might not just be trees that you take out and I will take that OUT of YOUR hide. I'm going to have a hard enough time explaining the landscaping disaster to the council as it is."

"Sorry." Kevin mumbled, shuffling.

Dean wasn't so polite. They couldn't be wasting time on chit-chat. Sam and Adam were dying! God only knows what they were facing, alone and afraid. Dean HAD to do something! "Do you have the dreamroot?" He demanded.

"Yeah." The prophet pulled a jar out of his jacket. "Andrea Griffith here thought that it was dried cannabis."

"You were going _one hundred and twenty _miles an hour! Yes I was a bit suspicious of a jar full of strange plant product."

Dean cleared his throat impatiently. "Do you have a tea kettle, Jody?"

The sheriff nodded. "Yeah. Top shelf of the cabinet over the sink. Why?"

"Because I need to make some tea."

While Dean was locating the kettle and Sheriff Jody had left to return to her patrol (and, presumably, to tow away the ruined jeep...Dean was going to kill him) Kevin wandered into the living room, nose wrinkled as the smell of old food and unwashed bodies hit him. Gross. This was why he was hoping to go into politics instead of being a surgeon.

Sam and Adam were laid out on a mattress, looking far too limp and quite sickly with their pale faces and lank, greasy hair. It reminded Kevin of fruits at the State Fair left out under the hot display lights for too long until they started to go soft and squishy inside.

"Geeze. They look like crap."

"No shit." Dean was now seated at the kitchen island, one eye on the roots he was skinning and the other eye on his brothers. He didn't look so hot either. Clearly he hadn't showered any more recently than the sleepers had. Probably hadn't slept either. Winchesters were crazy. Kevin was half-afraid that moving out would do more harm than good. They were just running themselves into the ground. That couldn't be REMOTELY healthy...even if you factor out witch's curses and getting beat on by damn demons nine times out of ten. God!

Kevin really hoped that this root idea (whatever it was) worked.

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><p><strong>Please read &amp; review!<strong>


	40. The Enemy Unseen

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><p>Sam was drowning. On the outside - the front he presented to Adam - he was fine, but inside he was a teeming mess of emotions and hurts and tense as HELL just waiting for the shoe to drop.<p>

Dean had lied to him. Oh Dean had LIED to him! Dean had lied in the worst way and...and Sam felt dirty. He felt invaded and exposed and raw and he didn't know how he was even going to look Dean in the face after this. How could he look at his brother and smile and brush it off like he always did? This wasn't Dean being manipulated by outside forces or Dean just making insensitive comments or anything else like that. Dean _knew _how Sam felt about possession! He _knew _about how Sam had been forced by Meg to hurt people. He _knew _about Lucifer. He _knew_!

SO HOW COULD HE DO THIS?!

Oh he felt sick. Sick and dirty and betrayed and _tired_. But he couldn't waste time on that. He couldn't waste time with thinking only of himself. He had someone else to think about.

Could he risk casting Gadreel out? That was assuming that he even had the strength to do so, mind, but could he risk it? What if the angel was keeping the curse at bay? Sam didn't doubt that he deserved every evil memory that jumped him...but Adam was in his mind too now. They were connected by the spell. The kid had already gone through Hell just for the unfortunate cosmic joke that he happened to share a father in John Winchester...he didn't deserve for Sam to lump more on him.

And Sam had demons and wounds enough for two people. The memories of Jessica that he had trapped behind that door. The Soulless version of himself that still lurked in the background. The years of hunting all manner of horrors and evils. Ruby. Demon blood. The memories of Lucifer and the Cage that always slithered and burnt around the corners of his vision. He was no better than Adam...not really.

Adam's wounds were still fresh and bleeding, raw and barely-scabbed-over, easily re-opened with merely a brush the wrong way.

Sam's wounds were deeply embedded, ground into the dirt until they festered deep under the skin and turned poisonous, aching and throbbing in a dull way that was constant and therefore barely noticed until pressure was applied in just the right way to make him scream in agony. Or, what would make him scream in agony if he didn't bite his own tongue until he could taste blood.

And if he was so bad now whenever Gadreel was holding the curse back...what kind of drooling, sobbing, worthless piece of spinelessness would he become once the angelic protective barrier was gone? How could he protect Adam if he couldn't even handle his own memories?

Adam thought he could handle it. Sam begged to differ. Adam was inexperienced, despite his years in Hell, and he didn't know half of the things that Sam had seen and experienced. Adam was still a kid, snarky and impatient, and Sam doubted if he really understood the gravity of just what this curse could mean.

* * *

><p>Sheriff Jody Mills sighed and looked mournfully at the coffee machine, feeling slightly homicidal towards her deputy when she saw that he had drained the last cup. Damn him.<p>

Ever since the two youngest Winchesters had fallen under the curse, Jody hadn't had a decent night's rest. It wasn't that things were noisy (on the contrary, considering that three full-grown boys were in her house, they were depressingly silent) but it was just the general feel of unease and illness that left her tossing and turning at night, despite her aching eyes. No amount of foundation would hide the dark circles under her eyes and she had been asked twice today if she was well.

No. Of COURSE she wasn't! Sam and his little brother lay slowly dying on her living room floor and Dean was swiftly following them as he worked and worried himself into an early grave. Bobby's boys...and a _fine _job she was doing of looking after them!

Fortunately, though, it was that time of day where she could escape from her patrol car and her paperwork and head home to at least make sure Dean ate something. And today she could see if the 'dreamroot' that Kevin kid had brought would be of some help or not.

"Dean?" Jody pushed open the door from the garage carefully. "Kevin?"

"Damn this hunk of damn metal...go screw a porcupine...dammit!" That was Dean, swearing blue and green and brandishing a paring knife at Jody's stove. Kevin was nowhere to be seen.

She probably didn't want to know...but she had to ask anyway. "What in the world, Dean?"

"The stupid water won't boil." Dean glared and kicked at the stove, wincing and rubbing his toe immediately after the fact.

In any other circumstances it would have been hilarious the way he pouted at forgetting that he was in socks instead of steel-toed boots, but give what was happening right now, this was just sad. When she had left close to an hour ago he had been trying to boil water and now he was close to tears and sweating, wrestling with a stove and looking utterly defeated.

"Did you check to see if it was plugged in?"

Jody was favoured with a dirty look. "Yes." Dean growled in disgust. "Of course I did. That was the second thing I checked. The damn thing isn't working!'

He could always have used the microwave...but Jody figured that pointing this out would not be wise just now, so instead she bent down to examine the stove. "Oh. Damn." She said when she discovered the problem.

"What?"

"It's just out of propane, Dean." He looked like he was ready to punch himself, so Jody laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's my fault. I've been meaning to change 'em for a while now. Tell you what...how about you get the water started heating in the microwave while I get a new tank?"

Dean nodded and shuffled over to the cabinet, pulling out a glass measuring cup and transferring his water into it so he could stuff it into the microwave. Jody got a tank from the garage and was just hooking it up (and shooing Dean away) whenever Kevin poked his head cautiously into the room.

"Uh...guys?" He said. "You may want to come and see this."

Instantly abandoning their projects, Jody and Dean rushed into the living room, Dean shoving his way to the forefront.

Sam was writhing on the mattress, thrashing out weakly and gasping for breath.

Dean instantly dropped to his knees and caught one of Sam's hands in his. "Sammy? Sammy...can you hear me!" He called urgently, running a hand through Sam's hair. Sam only whimpered.

The other two observers looked away, feeling slightly embarrassed for intruding on this private moment between brothers.

"Sammy, c'mon, little brother. Whatever it is you're fighting, you kick it in the ass. You hear me? You CAN beat this!"

Sam gasped, back arching as he fought against something unseen. Beside him, Adam twitched and rolled away with a groan. It seemed that Sam wasn't the only one struggling.

"Damn it all!" Dean groaned, clutching Sam's hand tighter. "Kevin." He said, never looking away from his brothers. "Go into the kitchen and take some of that water - I don't care if it isn't boiling yet - and dump it into the jar of shredded root."

"Will that work?"

"I don't care. I've got to try. I need to get in there." _Just hang on, Sammy. I'm coming_.

As Kevin ran off, Jody could only stand there helplessly. It was all falling apart and she was powerless to stop it. God...why?

Dean seemed to be of a similar mind as he bent over his brothers, calling softly to Sam and all but begging him to hold on. He didn't even look up whenever Kevin came back in with the jar of water and root, only muttered despondently something about letting it steep for a couple of minutes.

Then Sam began to glow. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, Jody never would have believed it, but the tallest Winchester's entire body went rigid - every muscle flexed - and all the lamps in the room flickered as a brilliant, pure light began to emanate from under his closed eyelids and every pore on his body. Dean squinted and leaned forward as the outline of two broken, burnt wings became apparent behind Sam's back.

"What the hell?" Kevin said softly, flattening himself against the wall. "Dean! That's an angel!"

Sam's body gave one last jerk and there was a sudden flash of hot, white light that made Jody wince and shield her eyes. Whenever the spots cleared from her vision, the living room was plunged into the darkness of late evening as every lamp in the room was shattered and burnt out. Dean, eyes shielded too was muttering _"No. Nonono!" _to himself again and again. Kevin's mouth was hanging open and he looked deathly pale as he slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Adam hadn't moved again but looked like death warmed over. And Sam...

Sam had gone entirely limp, sinking bonelessly into the mattress and barely breathing.

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><p><strong>Please read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	41. Even Angels Have Their Wicked Schemes

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><p>"I don't want to hurt you, Sam."<p>

"Well then, you really should have thought twice before putting your filthy fingers on my brother's throat!"

Sam was tired. Sam was irritable. Sam had just spent the last goodness knows how long running through his _own damn mind _only to find out that it wasn't just his mind after all because his big brother had tricked him into being possessed by an angel.

Then he had been sent on yet another run through the labyrinth of his mind, pursued by every doubt and every bad memory as he fought to keep Adam safe and to find their way out. Gadreel may have been holding the worst effects of the curse at bay...but, as Sam well knew, his mind was a dark place even without witchery aiding all of his demons to come out and play.

He also felt _sure _that the angel was throwing obstacles in their way. If Sam knew anything about angels (and, after several centuries becoming intimately acquainted with two archangels, he'd like to think that he did) he knew that Gadreel was going to cling to him. Good vessels were hard to come by and Sam knew that, as a vessel, he was valuable. He had once contained the burst of tainted power that was the Devil. Any angel brave enough to enter in after that would have no worries about their vessel exploding on them.

Ugh. Just the _thought _of it made his skin crawl.

How could Dean do this to him? And what was he going to do about it? He had to find Gadreel. He had to take control and force the angel to burn out the curse, no matter how much it hurt him.

And that was what brought them to this place, Sam and Gadreel slowly circling each other in a room that looked like a darker versions of the Bunker...Sam glaring angrily and Gadreel using Adam as a shield and threatening to break the young man's neck.

"Let him go." Sam growled.

Gadreel looked somewhat mournful, but only tightened his grip on Adam who choked and struggled in vain against the angel. "You don't really want me to go." Gadreel said. "Right now I am the only thing standing between your mutilated soul and all of the Hell that the curse will unleash upon it."

"And?"

"I am the glue, the staples, and the pins that are holding you together. If I were to go, what makes you think that you wouldn't just fall part?"

"You're a dick, you know that?" Adam rasped, tugging the fingers away from his throat and gasping in a breath.

The angel's face twitched slightly. "Yes. Dean has called me that on occasion."

"Whoa, wait...and just how many times have you and Dean been having little chats?" A sudden, terrible suspicion pierced through Sam like a bullet. "YOU'RE the reason I've been losing time, aren't you? Oh God..."

Gadreel frowned. "Dean asked me to erase your memory." He said solemnly, ignoring the way both Sam and Adam stiffened. "He felt that you would expel me before you were fully healed and he was right."

Suddenly all around them swirled a confusing reel of memories. Dean and Gadreel leaving the hospital. Gadreel in Sam's body smiting demons. Charlie lying dead and cold on Dean's bed and Gadreel bringing her back. Gadreel telling Dean that Castiel couldn't stay in the Bunker. Gadreel feeling up Adam's soul. Monsters. Demons. Witches. Smashed iPads. Gadreel erasing Sam's memory again and again while Dean stood aside.

Oh God!

Sam felt sick. "Damn you!"

The angel cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "I was called to heal you, Sam, and that is what I did."

"Yeah, well. I'm healed now, so you can get the hell out."

"You don't really want to do that."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes." Gadreel said, a look on his face that was almost a smirk. "You are a mess, Sam, and your brother here is even more mangled and raw than you are. He stinks of Hellfire and fear and the curse will make short work of him. I like this vessel. It is very roomy and you can't cast me out unless you want to doom your brother to die horribly alongside of you."

He was right and therein lay the crux of the matter. Sam wanted nothing more than to get this interloper out of his head and to scrub himself until he bled and remove every last scrap of Grace so that maybe he could feel like his own man again...but could he be selfish and do that to Adam?

"You know." Adam was speaking again, still struggling against Gadreel's grip. "I think I've heard of you." He said to the angel. "Weren't you the one that ol' Lucy tricked into letting him into the Garden of Eden? Heh...it's kinda funny, when you think about it. What a loser! I'm sure your Father in Heaven, or wherever he is, looks down on you with REAL pride...OOF!"

Adam hit the floor as Gadreel punched him in the side of the face, leaving a visible red mark with a crack, and flinging him into a pillar. "HOLD YOUR TONGUE!" The angel shouted, practically spitting with rage. Clearly what Adam had said hit a nerve.

As Adam lay there, blinking dazedly and spitting blood out of his mouth, Gadreel strode forward and grasped the young man by the front of his shirt, hauling him up and kneeing him in the stomach.

Then Sam charged, tackling Gadreel to the ground and making him drop Adam who crumpled to the floor with a moan.

Angel and vessel grappled for a minute before Gadreel pinned Sam and clamped his hands around Sam's throat. But, unlike with Adam, he instantly began clamping down. This wasn't a warning. This was Gadreel fighting back.

Sam pawed desperately at the hands that were cutting off his air supply, scratching and tugging as he struggled to throw the angel off.

"Face it, boy, you're not strong enough! You may as well give up n - "

Gadreel was cut off as something heavy smashed into his head and knocked him off of Sam, leaving Sam to cough and suck in valuable air and, as he turned to jump back onto Gadreel, catch sight of Adam breathing very hard and clutching a lamp that he had just swung with both arms.

It wasn't easy (even with the blow to the head Gadreel had sustained) but eventually after quite the struggle Sam managed to pin the angel down and get a foot on his throat. This was it. Screw the curse! Screw everything! He looked down at the angel that had healed him but that had also ruined him in so many ways.

"I said. Get. The HELL. Out." He snarled, shoving down with his foot.

Gadreel's eyes widened and suddenly the entire room was filled with a brilliant light as the form of the angel melted away and fled. Gadreel was gone.

* * *

><p>"I'm going in." Dean swirled the milky tea in the jar, blowing on it to cool it. He downed the hot liquid in one gulp, barely even grimacing at the taste at this point. "Okay." He said, swallowing to make sure it all had gone down. "I'm, uh, I'm going to need a bit of help going under."<p>

"Help?"

"Yeah. Just knock me out or someth - "

Dean fell like a stone and Jody stepped back, rubbing her knuckles. "That good enough for you?"


	42. Be Sure Your Sins Will Find You Out

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><p>He was falling - falling through time and through space, darkness and shadow all around him, memories swirling and flashing by too fast to be seen. There was fire. There was blackness. There was pain. There was loneliness.<p>

Where was Sam?

"C'mon, Sammy." He muttered, trying to make sense of what he was seeing (oh...there was Sam hitting that ridiculous dog). "C'mon. I drank something with your silly-ass long hair in it. Damn it all, the least you could do is put out some landing lights!"

And suddenly, as if Sam had somehow heard his plea, the confusion stopped, the static cleared, and Dean found himself standing in a ramshackle house that was suddenly part of a memory that was only too clear.

Honestly, he kind of missed the blurriness.

* * *

><p><em>"Don't touch me!"<em>

_"Awww, come on now, Sam! Are you really going to screw me through the night and then turn your back on me, come morning?"_

_"Shut up."_

_"...you have a headache."_

_"Well no freaking kidding! You've been having me exorcising demons all morning!"_

_"_Trying _to exorcise demons. Quite frankly, you suck at it."_

_"Thanks, Ruby, thanks."_

_"Did you take some medicine?"_

_"Nooo. I'm just going to suffer through skull-splitting, stabbing pain without the help of booze or narcotics. Sure. Totally."_

_"Well there's no need to be rude, Sam! Let me help."_

_"What are you going to do, massage my neck? I'll pass, thanks."_

_"I _was _going to suggest that you take my suggestion and enhance your performance a bit."_

_"God that sounds wrong."_

_"Come on, Sam. I'm trying to help you."_

_"No."_

_"It's just a little drink...won't even hurt me. And it won't hurt you either."_

_"I said no!"_

_"Do you want to save Dean or not? This is a faster way to killing Lilith. Unless you PREFER to squat in old, mouldy houses and fight off killer migraines after every hunt with too many pills and liquor while Dean burns in - "_

_"Okay, okay! Just shut up!"_

* * *

><p>"God, Sammy." Dean whispered, feeling wretched for the way he had treated Sam after his return from Hell. He should have KNOWN that the only reason Sam would ever consort with a demon was in some foolish, suicidal scheme to save him.<p>

Ruby faded away and Dean found himself in a shadowy tunnel. He started walking, struck by the sudden, burning desire to find his brother and wrap Sam up in the tightest hug ever and NEVER let him go.

Dammit he was turning into a chick...

On he went, passing through several more memories (all of them in varying stages of painful...he wondered if Sam even _had _any truly pleasant memories that hadn't been tarnished in some way) and feeling absolutely naked without a gun or knife at hand. Not that it would do much good in the world of dreamwalking, but it would have made him feel better.

Once or twice something that sounded suspiciously like a Hellhound snarled just out of sight and made him jump.

Then he heard the screams. Soul-deep, anguished, terrified screams. He knew that voice.

"SAM!"

* * *

><p>"Whoa there, easy!" Jody shoved Dean back down onto the couch as he sat up with a jerk. "Don't you go rolling over and crushing your brothers."<p>

"Sam? Adam?" Dean ignored Jody and rolled off the sofa, kneeling down by Sam. "Hey, Sammy?"

"Get off me." Sam propped himself up on a shaky arm and shoved Dean away from him.

Dean looked hurt. "How are you feeling, Sam?"

Sam shot him a dirty look. "Like I was just cursed by a freaking witch."

Beside Sam, Adam coughed and blinked his eyes open, wincing as the light from the lamp hit him in the face. "Dammit." He muttered, rolling away from Sam with a grimace and wobbling to his feet, leaning heavily against the TV set. His voice was raspy with disuse and, Jody noted, he looked very shaky. Little wonder...he had been asleep for days.

Dean was still hovering worriedly by Sam. Not five minutes ago he had found his little brothers clinging together, Sam screaming as some dark monster ripped his back to shreds because he was standing between it and Adam. Sure it had only happened inside their minds, but the pain and exhaustion was real. And Dean NEVER wanted to see that image again!

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, Dean," Sam drawled, voice acidic. "I've had an angel inside of me for the past few months and I was just ripped to shreds by something that looked like the ass of Cthulu. Oh, and I forgot, I've had my MIND INVADED AND TAMPERED WITH. But no, I'm just okie dokie."

There was a cough from Adam. "So, uh," He said. "Are we going to talk about this?"

"No need. Dean seems quite content to simply erase our memories."

Dean flinched. Sam must be FURIOUS if he was hitting beneath the belt like that. Usually Sam just bottled it all up (something learned from years of being stonewalled by John) until it boiled over but, uh, they were well PAST the boiling point and close to vaporisation right now.

Maybe he should just leave. He looked thoughtfully at the door before Jody abruptly cut in as Sam clambered to his feet.

"Oh no you don't, Dean Winchester. I will slash the tires on your car and put a bullet in your leg myself if I have to, but so help me you _will not _run from this. And you!" She turned on Sam. "Don't even think about it. You are going to sit down like the mature adults you supposedly are and you are going to talk this out WITHOUT breaking any of my remaining dishes or lamps, got it? I'm not above putting road blocks on all of the ways in and out of this town to assure that you don't leave until you do."

If looks could kill, Jody would be pushing up daisies from the glare Dean shot her. "Stay out of this, you're not my mother."

"And you're old enough to face up to your problems like a man and deal with them." She shot back.

There was a tense stand-off for a moment while the sheriff and Dean glared at each other before he backed down and looked away, slumping a bit in exhaustion, and she knew she had won.

"Okay, boys." Jody clapped and turned to Adam and Kevin. "Get your jackets. I'm taking you out for ice cream while the Apocaplyse Mark II happens in my living room. Adam...we're getting you some fries too. And wear a hat. Your hair is a fright."

* * *

><p>After the door closed firmly behind Jody and the two boys, Sam and Dean stood there awkwardly for a moment. Sam was still seething, but he was also swaying slightly on his feet so, after a moment, Dean cleared his throat awkwardly.<p>

"I'm going to fix you up some grub, dude." Sam didn't answer. "Does microwave oatmeal sound okay? I think Jody might have some of those dried apricots you like so much. Maybe I can..."

"I can make my own damn food, Dean."

"Maybe you can, but right now you haven't eaten in days and you look like you're about to fall over, so you're going to sit down at that table...island...whatever...and I'm going to feed you. Got it?"

Mutinously, Sam went and sat down at the island while Dean fired up the microwave and puttered through Jody's cupboards. Things were tense and at last Dean could take it no longer."

"Talk to me, Sammy."

Sam made a noise of disgust and looked away, eyes bright. "Dean...how," He stopped and took a deep breath, biting his lip. "How can I even look at you right now?"

Dean laughed nervously. "God, don't be such a primadonna!"

"PRIMADONNA? Dean...you put an angel inside of me. You SHOVED an ANGEL DOWN MY THROAT!"

"Yeah, well, I did it for you, Sam."

"Oh really?"

"Yes really."

"No. You did it for you. What? Because you couldn't accept that I might die?"

"Damn straight I couldn't! Do you have any idea what it was like for me, Sammy? After you fell into that box with Lucifer and Michael? Do you know how many times I just sat in the Impala with a bottle of whiskey and stared at my gun for hours?"

Sam snorted. "Oh _please_." He said scornfully. "Grow up, Dean. You're not the only one who's suffered. In case you've forgotten, I had to wait a whole damn YEAR in anticipation of you going to Hell. I tried SO HARD to save you, but it was like pulling teeth to get you to work with me and...and I failed. I had to watch you be torn apart by Lilith's hounds, knowing that you went to Hell FOR ME! I picked your bloody body up off of the ground and I carried you out to the car and I cleaned you up and buried you, all by myself. Then I carried on, Dean. I carried on for MONTHS all by myself. So don't you DARE talk to me about how hard it is or about staring at a gun for hours, you understand me?"

A chill settled over Dean as he remembered how defeated and ill Sam had looked in the memory he had stumbled into. "Sam. You never, I mean, you never actually tried to, uh, kill yourself, did you?"

He was treated to a look from Sam that suggested his intelligence had just dropped a few points in the younger Winchester's eyes. "_No_, Dean, I became a well-adjusted, happy citizen until I decided to try sucking blood for kicks."

Ouch. You could blow up a _tank _with the venom in that one.

"Sam, come on. We both know that's not how it went down."

"You essentially held me down and let an angel rape me just because you couldn't bear to be left alone, Dean. I did what I did with Ruby because it would save you and only hurt me. There's a big difference. I'm not saying I was right, and I still hate myself every time I think about it, but don't bring that into this discussion. It's not relevant."

Dean felt sick. "No! You are my BROTHER, Sam. It's my job to protect you."

"So you did that by lying to me and going against my wishes?"

"I saved you!"

"Yeah, well. What if I didn't want to be saved?"

_No_. "What?"

"I remember what happened, Dean. I was ready to die. I was ready to go and rest and be done so that nobody else can get hurt because of me. But then you came in and you used the promises we made to each other to trick me into letting Gadreel (oh yeah, his name is Gadreel, NOT Ezekiel, like he told you) in."

"Sammy...what was I supposed to do?"

"Let me go!"

"Oh, right. Well, tell me this then, if we had switched places and you were in my shoes, what would you have done! I'll bet you would have done the exact same thing!"

Sam shook his head. "No, Dean. Same circumstances, I wouldn't."

That hurt. That sent a lance right through his heart. "I see."

"Dean...you didn't want to take Doc. Benton's magic formula, remember? I said that I'd take it too. I offered to harvest the body parts for us. I was willing to give up EVERYTHING for you...but you said no. And I respected that. I could have snuck the potion into your food or something, but I didn't. Same circumstances, I WOULDN'T TRICK YOU INTO VIOLATING YOURSELF LIKE THAT!" Sam slumped down in his chair, all the fight leaching out of him and leaving him looking unusually small and exhausted. "You've never been possessed, Dean. You have no idea what it is like to know that you slit a man's throat. Or that your hands beat your brother to within an inch of his life. God! We're only lucky that Gadreel is gone before he could make me hurt someone else. What if he had hurt Adam? Or Kevin?"

"Sammy, I..."

The microwave dinged and Sam got to his feet, pulling out a bowl of partially-petrified oatmeal. "I'm going to take a shower."

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><p><strong>Please read &amp; review! Lemme know what you thought of this new development. :)<strong>


	43. Aftermath

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><p><strong>Dear Sam and Dean,<strong>

**I know it's been a while since I've written one of these and that you won't see them until I come back but...oh God. Dorothy's wounded. Like, she's wounded really badly and...and we don't know if she's going to make it.**

**It's all my fault! I was supposed to be watching her back, but I looked away and she got stabbed right through the lung. We're just lucky it didn't...it didn't sever her spine. Oh God, Dean. There was SO MUCH BLOOD! Just...how do you guys deal with this? I'm scared.**

**So if I hug you both extra hard whenever I come home, this is why. I miss you SO MUCH! **

**Love, **

**Charlie**

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><p>"Do you really think they'll talk it out?" Adam asked as Jody drove down the road away from her house.<p>

"Oh hell no!" Jody shook her head adamantly. "Beat it out of each other, maybe. But if you think I am just going to let your idiot of an eldest brother run off in the state he was in, then you've got another think coming! Now...Goodie's or DQ?"

Adam shrugged. "I don't really care."

"Kevin?"

"Um...Dairy Queen's always great. I hear they've got pumpkin-flavoured sherbet."

Immediately, Adam wrinkled his nose. "Seriously?"

Kevin scowled. "Hey...it might be good!"

"Hey, hey!" Jody glared in the rearview mirrors. "None of that. We are NOT going to argue, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

Kevin and Adam both murmured their agreements meekly, sticking to their individual sides of the backseat. Jody smirked. Yup! She still had it!

* * *

><p>Dean sat at the island in Jody's kitchen with his head in his hands. He wasn't crying, oh no...he wished that he <em>could <em>cry because maybe then the heavy, sickening feeling of guilt that he was experiencing.

_"You essentially held me down and let an angel RAPE me just because you couldn't bear to be left alone, Dean..."_

God. He couldn't even think of it without wanting to slit his own wrists! Had he really done that to Sammy? To Sam? To his little brother, his kid, his reason for living, the one person that he had sworn to always protect as long as he lived? Had he?

Yes. Yes he had.

He had indeed held Sam down and tricked him into allowing an angel to violate him. He had hurt his little brother in just about the worse way he could and now he had to pay the price for squandering the trust Sam had put in him.

Time and time again he had hurt Sam...would this be the straw that broke the camel's back?

Dean remembered the awful days after their father had died. The days when he had been so caught up in his own grief and anger and guilt to remember that Sam had lost his father too. He had been furious with Sam for pushing at him and for, so he thought, trying to out-do Dean in the grief department. He had missed that Sam was drowning, not waving. But Sam had forgiven him and life had gone on.

Then there was Ruby and Sam breaking the last seal and their relationship breaking so hard and so badly that Sam was half-afraid it seemed that Dean would kill him in his sleep...and sometimes Dean wondered if Sam might have a point. Not that he EVER wanted to hurt his brother (he'd sooner die than put a bullet in Sam's heart) but sometimes when the nights were dark and the world was visibly going to Hell, Dean wondered if it wouldn't be kinder to just shoot them both in the head and put them out of their misery.

But then came their terrible trip to Heaven - the place that was supposed to be an eternal rest of peace and happiness, but that ended up being nothing more than a nightmarish battleground for them - and remembered dropping that amulet (that freaking amulet that he had worn for over twenty years just because it was from Sam) into the trash like it was a ball of used tissue. He had _felt _Sam flinch as the metal dully thunked into the bottom of the wastebasket, but at the time he hadn't cared. He had been glad...feeling that Sam should experience just a hint of betrayal he was feeling. One of Dean's biggest regrets was that Sam had jumped into Hell with so much still unresolved between them. So much bad blood.

So many times he had hurt Sam. So many times he had promised forgiveness and loyalty and a clean slate, only to snatch it out from underneath Sam's feet shortly after. Probably the greatest hit since Sam's return from Hell, though, had been the way he had treated Sam after he got back from Purgatory.

"Seems to be a theme with me." He muttered, wishing that there was some booze stronger than Bud Lite to be had. "Failing my brothers."

Forgetting Adam aside (that was a whole OTHER set of things to castigate himself about), Dean had hurt and beat Sam down so many times that it seemed every time the kid came crawling back he was like a dog who had been kicked so many times that it was more confused by a kind word than a blow.

And Dean was the one to put that mentality there with years of betrayals that had paved a slippery slope to this, the worst of them all. What kind of big brother was he?

A shitty one. That's what he was. God! It was a wonder Sam hadn't left him for good years ago! Dean was under no illusions that he was perfect, he knew that, he also knew that he hadn't always tried. But he had wanted to save Sam, not hurt him. He was selfish. He _didn't _want to go on alone. So he let himself be talked into hurting his brother again. Where would this road end? Not in Heaven, that he was sure of...

Why oh why did everything that he tried to do right end up merely throwing gasoline on the fire?!

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><p><strong>Please read &amp; review. Reviews are like hugs and pie for Sam and Dean. And God only knows they need 'em!<strong>


	44. Bobby, I Did Not Sign Up For This

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><p>After getting some food in his belly and a nice, long, hot shower, Sam felt much more like a human being. Well enough to try and comprehend what had just happened, at least.<p>

He wrapped a towel around his waist and got out of the tub, shivering as the chilly air hit his wet skin and hastily drying himself off before attempting to shave off the stubble that was itching him. He probably should have turned on the heater before getting under the water, but he had just felt so _unclean _that he couldn't wait. So now he was paying the price for his foolishness.

Story of his life, really...

"Stupid, Sam." He muttered, throwing his razor back into the sink. "Should have just kept your damn mouth shut and completed that trial. At least then you could have died for a purpose."

He should have known better than to spill his guts to Dean...should have known better than to make himself vulnerable and burden his older brother like that. Dean always did have a rather overblown protective streak, and Sam should have seen this coming after their talk in that church, really he should have.

God! Why couldn't he ever learn from his mistakes? Talking about _his _problems never did any good. He should focus more on getting Dean to open up. To help Dean deal with the crap that had been dumped on him. Sam couldn't afford to let his emotions out. Whenever he did, all of his ugliness was exposed and such hurtful things came from his lips that afterwards he _wished _he could claim that he had just been possessed. Yeah. He should be focusing on Dean.

But that would be easier if he just wasn't so RAW and HURTING right now!

* * *

><p>When Sam finally emerged from the bathroom with his dirty dishes and felt shielded enough to risk facing Dean again, he headed back down to the kitchen where he found Dean sitting at the island, staring blankly at a beer.<p>

Sam ignored him and set about rinsing and trashing the styrofoam bowl that had held his oatmeal. He was just about to flee back upstairs whenever Dean spoke, sounding unusually vulnerable and lost.

"Does it...does it really feel like I...like I did _that _to you, Sammy?"

Sam didn't have to ask what 'that' meant. "It's not a perfect comparison, Dean." He said, trying hard to keep his tone neutral. It wasn't easy. "But, yeah. It kind of does."

Dean flinched. "God, Sammy." He said, taking a deep pull of his beer. "Oh God..."

Something ached in Sam's chest. "Is that all?"

"No. Of course not. Just...what can I do?"

"There's nothing you can do, Dean." Sam said, feeling wretched and angry. "What's done is done. Let's just be glad he's gone before he could make me hurt anybody."

At that, Dean looked confused. "Sam, no. You've got it all wrong. Zek-Gadreel was just there to heal you. I swear it! He was just going to heal you up from the Trials and then be on his way. Ideally you would have been none the wiser."

Now it was Sam's turn to flinch. "Oh...and I suppose you would have just kept lying to me about the time I lost, Dean?" He said acidly, feeling the rage rise again and scorch him. "Or what about the fact that Gadreel liked me as a vessel and said he didn't want to leave? It wasn't easy for me to cast him out, Dean. He tried to take control!"

"Of course he did! You were his patient!"

"I was his meatsuit! You've never been possessed by anything, Dean. You have NO IDEA what it's like!"

"Well then how about you _educate _me, Professor Sam?"

Sam broke off with an incredulous laugh. "I don't think I could without putting you through it yourself." He said. "But just try to imagine looking at your hands every night and remembering how it felt to watch those same hands kill people - slit their throats and beat them to death - and know that you had been powerless to stop it and no matter how hard or how much you scrub the blood will never come out..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Dean, look. It's not so much that you let Gadreel into my head. I mean, I'm pretty pissed about that too, but I get why you did it."

"Well then what is it?!"

"You _lied _to me! You let that damn angel in and then you let him screw around with my memory! I thought I was going CRAZY, Dean! And you just kept on lying." Sam shook his head sadly and looked away. "I was ready to die, Dean. But I said 'Yes' and chose to live because you asked me to. Because you promised that we..." He trailed off miserably.

"That we would what?" Sam didn't answer and Dean probed again, as gently as he could. "What would we do, Sammy?"

"That we would finally be brothers again." This was said in a whisper so soft that Dean had to strain to hear it...but it still pierced him more deeply than if Sam had screamed in his face. The pain of it stole his breath away.

"Sam..."

Sam, for his part, looked unbelievably defeated and weary. "I don't want to talk about this any-more, Dean." He said quietly. "I'm tired. Think I'm going to go to our room and lay down for a while."

He stood up and shuffled out of the room and Dean shook himself out of his daze long enough to call, "Use my bedroll. The mattress from the bed is still down here."

God he needed a drink! Or two...

* * *

><p>"Bobby, I did not sign up for this." Jody sighed, rubbing the back of her neck wearily and stacking up dishes in the sink to wash. Kevin and Adam were both deeply asleep in separate rooms, thank God. She was beginning to think that taking those two out to eat had been a mistake. Clearly they were less than amiable acquaintances and she had had to derail more than one argument before it could pick up steam. Adam had been ow-y and flinching at everything while Kevin didn't seem to quite grasp what had just happened. The crowning moment of immaturity that still made Jody roll her eyes was whenever they nearly came to blows on whether to get vanilla cones or pecan-chocolate waffle bowls.<p>

Then whenever she came home it was to Sam panicking and shouting that Dean had taken off (and, sure enough, the distinct black car wasn't in the driveway) and it had taken quite a bit of time to get him calmed down enough that she didn't have to threaten to use her tranquilliser gun on him.

He was asleep now too, finally. God only knows he had needed it.

Jody was just finishing up the last of the dishes whenever she heard the rumble of the Impala engine as it screeched and careened into her driveway, narrowly avoiding taking out her mailbox AND her newly-planted tulip bed.

She frowned and poked her head out of the door, just in time to see Dean get out of the car and stagger his way into the garage, stumbling over her garbage with a slurred string of curses.

"Dean?"

"'M so shtupid! Should jus'leave an' leave 'em 'lone. 'M poison."

Oh no...

"Bobby, you'd better be watching from Heaven and give me the right words to say!" Jody murmured as she saw Dean kick at a spare tire and fall to the ground as he misjudged the distance. Even from this distance she could smell the alcohol on him. She wondered for a moment if maybe she should just leave him to himself, to let him work it out of his system by himself. As he had so eloquently said earlier that day, she wasn't their mother. She didn't even know Dean all that well. It was Sam who she had spent the most amount of time right now.

But she owed it to Bobby to take care of his boys. And if that meant pulling a drunk Dean Winchester into her house and putting him to bed, then she was more than up to the task!

"You do realise that you are well above the acceptable Blood Alcohol Level, right?" Jody said, coming into the garage.

Dean flinched and spun around clumsily to face her. His reaction time was shot. "'M fine." He said, blinking owlishly through his bleary eyes. "Just fancied a, uh, drive."

"Sure. And that included getting so sloshed that I really should be arresting you for getting behind the wheel in the first place?"

"If you didn't arrest me for the arse...arse...arsenal in the back, then I don't think you would - "

"Okay, you are trashed and I just made coffee. So come on inside before we freeze our asses off." Jody took Dean by the elbow and led him inside where she wrestled him into a chair and plunked a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. "Bottoms up!"

"Ugh." Dean scowled, but obediently drained it in one gulp and held the empty cup out for a refill.

Jody obliged and they repeated the process several times until Dean began to look somewhat coherent and the tears that Jody kindly did not notice stopped threatening to fall. Whatever exactly had driven Dean to this state, he wasn't out for a night on the town. This was drinking to numb something.

"Sammy's never gonna forgive me." Dean said, blurting it out of nowhere with enough of a slur to suggest that he was still feeling the effects of whatever cocktail of liqueur he had downed. "I really screwed up this time, huh?"

"I think it was a shitty thing that you did, Dean." Jody said bluntly, though her tone was not mean. "But I understand why you did it and Sam does too. Just give him time and space. He'll forgive you."

Dean laughed bitterly. "Not so sure he _should _forgive me. I mean...what kind of brother am I?"

"A desperate one who loves almost too much." She answered immediately.

"That was a rhetorical question."

"Yeah, well, it needed answered. "You're not bad or evil or 'poison', Dean. I deal with that side of this society every day and I've been felt up by liver-eating surgeons, so I know evil when I see it. And you, Dean Winchester, certainly aren't it. You'll regret telling me this much tomorrow when you sober up, but let me just tell you that right now. You are a good man, d'you hear me? Sometimes you just make mistakes."

"I've made a buttload of mistakes and I think this time I really broke Sammy. He'll never forgive me. We'll never be brothers again."

She looked at him with compassion. "Sam is angry and hurt, Dean. He needs you to apologise honestly and truthfully without trying to justify what you did wrong. Be honest with him. Tell him how you feel and then try to understand his side. That'll go a long way towards healing things. Take it from someone who was married for close to thirteen years; relationships, romantic or platonic, are a two-way street and are built on honesty and torn down by lies."

"So you think Sam might forgive me?"

"I know he will. What you did wasn't right...but you did it out of love. And I'm sure Sam knows that. He's just feeling hurt right now. Give him time and show that you're sorry and he will come back to you. You're brothers...Bobby always said he couldn't separate you if he tried."

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><p><strong>Please read &amp; review! <strong>


	45. Hey, Dean

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><p>"I'm moving out, Dean."<p>

Dean stopped, carefully closed the laptop where he had been trying to drown his sorrows with anime and Jack, and blinked at Kevin. "What?"

"I said I'm moving out."

"The hell you are! This is the safest possible place in the friggan' world for you, Kevin. Or have you forgotten the fact that you're a prophet and there is a price put on your head?"

Kevin scowled. "Yeah. Pretty hard to forget whenever your angel buddy practically spat it in my face."

"Well then what are you thinking? Did...did Adam say something? Because, if he did, you should know better than to - "

"_God_, Dean, who d'you think I am, Cady Heron? No I'm not moving out because of anything he may or may not have said. And if you don't stop looking at me like that, I'm going to start writing down my own freaking addition to the Apocrypha and PUBLISH it...so there!"

Dean made a face at the thought of the 'Winchester Gospels' and glared at Kevin. "You wouldn't dare."

"I would too...and I could. You said it yourself, I'm a prophet." Kevin smirked as Dean narrowed his eyes in disgust.

"Fine." Dean said, opening up the laptop again and making sure that his anime page was closed. "Where are you moving?" If he didn't like it, he could always veto the plan. Crowley may still be fermenting in their dungeon...but Abaddon wasn't. And Dean was sure that she would be more than delighted to get her hands on a prophet.

"I'm moving in with Garth and Bess."

Well at least he wasn't planning for Vegas. "You do know that they're werewolves, right?"

Kevin rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dean. I know all about Garth's 'little furry problem'. They've got a furnished, reinforced attic for me and a buttload of silver that Garth says I can line my door with, just in case something goes wrong. It's all warded up against any kind of demon or angel (and I can reinforce that with stuff from the Tablets) and the farm is already protected against monsters because, let's face it, who would look for a Prophet of the Lord in a werewolf pack? I'll be fine."

"But - "

"It's not like I'm abandoning you guys or anything. I mean...if you need a translation from the Tablet or anything, you know my number."

"Kevin, just shut up and listen for a second, okay?" Kevin shut up and Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Dude, seriously, what's this all about? You know that the Bunker is the safest place, no offence to Garth, and I would have thought that after the whole crapfest with Crowley last year you'd be happy to finally be set up in here."

"Yeah, sure. Where the King of friggan' Hell is in the dungeon and I just found out that I've been talking and eating and living with an angel who may or may not have been friendly for the past few months?" Dean flinched and Kevin held up one hand. "Dean, I don't want to know. It's none of my business. So I'm going to get the hell out of here and let you all sort it out on your own. This place isn't so safe, after all, whenever someone invites something in through the front door."

"No." Dean said, looking miserable and slightly mad...the way he had looked every time anyone brought up the Gadreel Fiasco (as Adam had termed it) and his subsequent on-going fight with Sam over the past few days. "Kevin, buddy. We need you here. You're fam - "

"No, Dean, I'm not. You and Sam, _you're _family. Adam too, I guess. I'm not family. My family is my Mom...and she's dead. So thanks, but no thanks. I'll stick being a friend and sometimes research guy. And I'm moving out tomorrow, so expect Garth and Bess around 9:00 in the morning."

With that, Kevin walked off, leaving Dean alone with his anime.

* * *

><p>"SAM!" Garth burst in through the door of the Bunker, brushing past Dean and bounding up to Sam like an over-energetic puppy. "How're you doing, buddy?" He grabbed Sam in a tight, exuberant hug that left the tall hunter wondering if his friend had been possessed by a cupid.<p>

"Hey, Garth." Sam said, patting the shorter man on the back awkwardly. "I'm, uh, I'm fine."

"You don't look it, Sam." That was Bess, moving with a bit more grace than her husband was capable of. "Have you been sleeping? And eating right?"

Dean rolled his eyes and shut the door. _There _was the 'mother-me' vibes doing their work...it was a miracle that she hadn't tried to pinch Sam's cheek yet the way all the ladies at the grocery store tried to do whenever Sam was a kid. Honestly! How _had _their father kept from stabbing/holy-water-ing every little old granny and squeeing college girl that tried to get a piece of Sam back then? God!

Sam, for his part, rolled his eyes good-naturedly and smiled. "Nah, Bess. Thanks, but I'm fine."

It stung a bit that he hadn't countered with a classic rag on Dean's eating abilities. In the past, even after all that had happened, Dean could have predicted that like he was a freaking prophet himself...but ever since the terrible reveal at Jody's and the EXTREMELY uncomfortable and tense car ride back to the Bunker, Sam had been doing everything in his power to stay out of Dean's way - even going so far as to move what must have been half of the library into his room (Dean couldn't even be happy that Sam was decorating at last) and choosing to live off of cereal, celery, and cheese rather than come out and eat in the same room with the rest of them.

This was nothing new. Sam always had clammed up and brooded whenever he had been involved in a conflict. Dean had even seen this exact same type of behaviour (avoiding contact or even conversation) before. It was what he had done whenever John had been cracking down particularly hard or had moved them on a whim and Sam had shut down for self-protection. It was what he had done after Ruby's betrayal whenever he was so consumed with guilt and Dean with anger that they had scarcely been able to tell up from down.

Dean had never guessed that Sam would use the same thing directly against _him _though.

God help him, he needed to help Kevin get moved so that he could get down to work trying to fix things with his little brother. He needed Sammy back!

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><p><strong>Please do read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	46. Fraternity

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><p>"Talk to me, Sammy."<p>

Adam winced and curled in on himself, resisting the urge to cover his ears and clamp his eyes shut. His brothers were at it again - before long the shouting and slammed doors in a slightly smaller in scale version of the daily Cage arguments between Michael and Lucifer would begin again. There was a _reason _Sam and Dean were their preferred vessels, after all.

He snorted bitterly to himself. "Yeah. And where does that leave me?"

Oh Adam was under no illusions that he had any part in this argument. No, the tense, uncomfortable hours of stony silence broken only occasionally for a few terse words or a shouting match had nothing to do with him in his older brothers' eyes. In fact, he was quite sure that they had forgotten he existed. Again.

Sam didn't hear when he awoke at night with a gasp and a strangled cry. Dean didn't seem to care that the smells from his cooking binge had been turning Adam's stomach and leaving him hovering on the edge of dark memories. They were so busy with their own problems and each other that Adam might just as well have been a ghost wandering the hallways of the Bunker, shouldering his way past them and fidgiting uncomfortably in the No Man's Land between them.

Clearly _this _was why it had taken them five friggan' years to get him out of...downstairs.

* * *

><p>"Dean, just leave me the HELL alone! I AM FINE!"<p>

"The HELL you are! I suppose that's why you're coughing like an 80-year-old miner, then, huh?"

"It's just a tickle in my throat. Back off."

"Uh-huh. It's those thrice-damned Trials damn well starting up again, isn't it? Don't think I haven't noticed!"

"Yeah, well, my 'built-in-wonder-healer' is no longer lurking inside of me, so it stands to reason I might get one last hurrah from it all. Stop it, Dean. I am FINE."

"Oh, well, EXCUUUSE me for being concerned about your health!"

"You are excused. Now piss off."

A week. One full week of this back-and-forth bickering. Adam ground his teeth and staggered out of the library as the silence was broken yet again by Dean hovering and lashing out with equal stubbornness. God. What an ass!

And Sam was no better. Honestly, Adam had no idea why he had liked his taller brother in the first place (okay, okay, it probably had something to do with the events of...downstairs) but now his head throbbed and he jumped as a white-hot chain reached for him.

It was just piece of rope.

He clamped a hand over his mouth, sinking back against the cool tiles of the wall weakly. God it was getting bad again!

* * *

><p>"Sam, how long is this going to go on for?" Dean sliced at an onion (which was totally the reason he felt like crying) with a vengeance.<p>

Sam looked up, deliberately innocent. "How long is what going to go on for?"

"You treating me like something that damn dog you hit rolled in."

His brother raised an eyebrow and glared. "That damn dog has a name and that damn dog saved my life, so you can just shut up about that damn dog."

Dean filed that one away for future discussion. "So are we going to talk about what's on with us or not? Because we can't keep on doing this. Sooner or later we're going to have to go on a hunt...and stuff like this can get us killed."

"I don't know that there is anything to talk about." Sam shrugged. "You shoved an angel down my throat and lied to me, I cast him out, end of story. Now will you get out of my way? I want a beer."

* * *

><p>Dean looked up and frowned as Sam stalked into the kitchen, grabbed an apple and a cheese stick, and stalked back out again without a word. They couldn't keep doing this. This was ridiculous! For starters, it couldn't be even remotely healthy for a man of Sam's size who was still healing to be eating like that. He had put up with the health-food preference that Sam had picked up at Stanford for years because, well, it made Sammy happy and didn't seem to do him any real harm (aside from the dangers of diner-induced food poisoning, which were pretty par for the course with their lifestyle)...but this was just ridiculous. They finally had a real kitchen to cook real food in it and Sam was in such a pissy mood that he was turning down all of Dean's efforts in favour of baby rabbit food.<p>

That's right, not even rabbit food, _baby _rabbit food. Dean felt personally insulted by this.

And, okay, so what he had done had been terrible. He got that. He got that loud and clear. (Kind of hard to miss whenever Sam kept on reminding him of it.) But, for God's sake, he had apologised and all but grovelled and Sam _still _wasn't acknowledging him with anything more than a middle finger or a tired, oh-so hurt sigh.

This had to stop. They couldn't go on like this. Did Sam honestly think that he didn't beat himself up every night whenever he thought about how he had ruined things between them? That it wasn't painful for him to think of how, yet again, he had dangled the idea of a clean slate in front of Sam only to yank it away again? It was, dammit!

* * *

><p>"Dean?"<p>

"What do you want, Adam?"

"I, uh, do you need any help?"

"Nah, I got it." What he wanted was to go and kick Sam's ass a bit...but Sam was out for a theraputic jog, so he had to content himself with cooking. Seriously. It was very soothing. If Metatron had spent a bit more time making enchiladas, perhaps he wouldn't have turned out such a douchebag.

"Are you sure?"

Damn it all! How was he supposed to figure out how to talk to Sam without making things worse while this was going on? "Would you just shut the hell up and leave me alone?" He snapped. "I'm trying to work and - "

He looked up.

Adam clearly had figured out how to duplicate Sam's broken, liquid puppy-dog eyes. _God_. Dean swallowed guiltily, looking at his youngest brother's pinched, pale face and twitching fingers that were stained with ink. In light of his ongoing fight with Sam, he had forgotten that Adam had gone through the curse too. Fresh out of centuries of unspeakable torture in Hell and he's cursed by a witch and sent right through it again. It occured to Dean that Adam was struggling too and maybe had also been looking to use a recipe as a bit of a distraction. "Adam, I - " He ignored the way Adam flinched and his face closed off._  
><em>

"Don't worry about it." The youngest Winchester said bitterly, turning away. "I get it, you don't have to say it again."

"Adam - "

"It's fine. I'll just, uh, go read or something."

"Adam - "

"I think there's a Classic Disney marathon on tonight."

Adam fled from the kitchen and Dean vented his feelings by throwing a wooden bowl across the room where it hit the stove and shattered. "DAMMIT!"

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><p><strong>I apologise for the unusual delay. This chapter was a bear and then work took over. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed. Read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	47. Conversations With Crowley

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><p><em>Once upon a time there were three brothers...<em>

_Once upon a time there were three brothers..._

_Once upon a time there were three brothers..._

_Once upon a time...once upon a time...once upon a time...once upon a time..._

_Onceuponatimeonceuponatimeonceuponatimeonceuponatimeonceupatimeonceuponatimeonceuponatimeonceuponatimeonceuponatimeonceupatimeonceuponatimeonceuponatimeonceuponatimeonceuponatimeonceuponatime..._

_Once upon a time there were three brothers..._"

His fingers were aching. His eyes were burning. His head was ringing. _Once upon a time, once upon a time, once upon a time. _Lucifer and Michael laughed in the background. Chains and hooks hovered just out of the corner of his eye. He was going to hurt. He did hurt. _Once upon a time, once upon a time, once upon a time. _"STOP IT!" He screamed, slamming his hand down on the table. "STOP IT!"

_Once upon a time there were three brothers..._

Breath through the pain, Milligan, breath through it. It'll pass. They'll bore of you and you'll be alone. You'll be fine.

_Once upon a time there were three brothers...and the two eldest didn't even remember the youngest._

Shut up. SHUT UP!

He forcibly yanked his pen up from the paper (which was now COVERED in scrawled phrases of ink) and rammed it into his arm, pulling and ripping and letting the sudden burst of real pain clear the hellfire from his vision. "Just stop it, please." He pleaded, fisting his hair and pulling it, breathing deep and trying to convince himself that he didn't smell sulphur.

He needed to get out. Needed to run. Needed to go where he couldn't hear feel the tension or hear the arguments or remember that he was right there right now and yet it was like he didn't exist.

He needed to get out.

"Ach." He hissed, pulling the tip of the pen out of his arm and clamping a hand over the wound to stem the blood welling up, standing and staggering down the hallways of the Bunker. (Yes, the Bunker, not the maze that Lucifer had put him in to run and run with Hellhounds nipping at his heels. He was out. He was safe.) He needed air. He needed quiet. He needed a place where he could put the wall to his back and curl up and hide from the world.

He needed somewhere that his brothers (should they actually remember his existence) would never think to look.

* * *

><p><strong>Dear Sam and Dean,<strong>

**What's up, bitches? **

**Just a short note today, but I really want to write and give you an update on Dorothy. She was hurt bad. Real bad. It was real touch-and-go for a while there and we weren't sure if she would make it...but now it looks like she's going to pull through. She actually woke up for a little bit today.**

**You two had better be taking care of each other, you hear? I know I say this in every letter, but I freaking mean it! Almost losing my best friend and sword sister was bad enough...losing my BROTHERS, well, I don't know what I would do. And, yes, that is what you guys are to me. The best big brothers in the world. I can't lose you guys. So you take care of each other and make sure that you're safe and healthy until I can come back, okay?**

**Loads of love and hugs,**

**Charlie**

* * *

><p>Adam staggered through the hallways, gritting his teeth against the voices in his head. The voices that sometimes took the form of Lucifer and Michael...and other times the forms of Sam and Dean. He was drowning. He needed silence and darkness where he could pretend that it was all a dream.<p>

He stumbled into the room and slammed the door behind him, feeling along blindly for the swinging shelves and shoving them open, slipping between them and sinking to the floor to bury his face behind his drawn up knees and take a deep breath. He could beat this. He could. He didn't need Sam's help and he sure as hell didn't need Dean's brand of 'help'.

He sat there for a moment, just regulating his breathing and basking in the quiet and the dark. A beam of light from under the door streamed through and illuminated the lines of the devil's trap. Adam took a deep breath. "Crowley?" He said quietly. "You still alive?"

There was a rough chuckle from the dark. "Well hello again." The British demon said. "I don't suppose you would have a flask of Scotch on you, by any chance?"

Adam shook his head before remembering that it was dark and Crowley probably couldn't see him. "No." He said, maybe a bit bitterly. "Sam and Dean won't let me have any liquor."

Crowley snorted. "And you let that stop you? I must say, Shrimp, I am disappointed."

"Yeah, well, I like the buzz but not the hangover." Adam relaxed slightly and leaned back. Even though Crowley was a demon, somehow talking to him felt...almost soothing.

Probably because he was actually in control of this situation. He had _chosen _to come down here and _chosen _to talk to Crowley and could _choose _to walk away at any point in time. It felt good.

* * *

><p>"Um, Dean? Do you know where Adam is?"<p>

Dean looked up in surprise as Sam poked his head into his bedroom. "So you've finally decided to do something with my olive branch aside from chewing it up and spitting it in my face?" Okay so that was harsh...but he was getting pissed too.

"Dean, can we not do this? I can't find Adam."

"So the kid's skulking about in the garage or something. If he's popped Baby's hood I'm gonna - "

"He's not there. But there is a bloody paper in the library. Looks like he cut himself up with the tip of a pen."

Crap.

Dean threw aside the _Game of Thrones_ Character Key that he had stolen from Sam's room and got to his feet. "Did you check down in the shooting range?"

He was favoured with a look from Sam. "Yes, Dean, of course I did. I've already checked all of the normal places."

"Right. Let's start scouring this place. God only knows what he could be doing now."

* * *

><p>"...it just feels like I can't trust them. Someone told me once that whenever the heat gets on they won't give a flying crap about me...and he was right."<p>

Crowley nodded sympathetically (as much as the collar would allow) "I hear you, kid." He said. "Moose and Squirrel are so far up each other's arses - metaphorically speaking, of course - that they're right horrors sometimes."

Adam made a face. "Yeah, well, not only did they leave me in...in downstairs for God only knows how long, but then after I get topside I'm captured by a ginger in leather - "

"A specific one?"

"Abaddon. Queen of Hell, apparently. Very short-tempered."

The demon in the chair hissed through his teeth. "That bloody bitch is taking over my kingdom!"

Adam raised an eyebrow. He couldn't really see Crowley in the darkness, but he could make a good guess at things via sound and it sounded like the demon was practically spitting ink...a sudden change from his former cool, collected, oily self. "Dude, you were King of Hell?"

* * *

><p>Dammit! Where could one half-crazed teenager hide in this place?<p>

Dean re-entered the library and looked around just a bit frantically. Adam had been doing better, hadn't he? But that didn't explain the bloody pen laying onto the table next to several papers liberally COVERED with those damn 'Once upon a time' phrases that Adam seemed to be obsessed with.

They really needed to have a talk about that. Dean figured it was probably some kind of coping mechanism...but this couldn't go on forever. Somehow he would have to heal things up with Sammy so that they could work on getting Adam back to some semblance of mental health.

Was it a bad thing that he was hoping the blood just meant that Adam had taken the idea of using pain to ground himself a bit far rather than Adam going into a flashback and slashing his wrists?

* * *

><p>"...and you should have seen the MESS Hell was in whenever I took over. The paperwork...the bloodstains! I am quite certain that Azazel never cleaned his office. No sense of class, that one. Little wonder he spent most of his time mucking about on Earth and screwing over innocent children just to test out Moose's sense of self-preservation and skill. Fool."<p>

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes and yawn audibly as Crowley rambled on and on about the dreadful state of perdition and the way he had totally _revolutionised _the torture of souls by replacing the Rack with never-ending lines for the masochists and individual cells for the others. He knew he should probably be entirely disgusted by this and possibly even feeling a return of the distress that had driven him to this dark dungeon in the first place, but he just couldn't find being forced to 'queue' for all of eternity all that terrifying. Not after some of the things he had seen.

Crowley paused for a moment after describing in lurid detail the brainless black goons that he had to endure and how he always had to do everything for himself because he couldn't trust anyone. (Adam didn't think he had room to gas on about 'incompetence', seeing how he was currently chained to a chair in their dungeon.) "Y'know, Shrimp." The former King of Hell said softly. "I've been down here for an dreadful long time. Haven't felt the touch of wind or the kiss of sun in months...even my little buddy, Kevin, hasn't been in to exchange tête-a-tête with me, and there's only so much that Moose is capable of. So, I was wondering, would you be so kind as to come over and loosen this collar a bit so I can stretch my legs?"

Adam snorted. "What, so you can smoke out and possess _me_? I don't think so! Just because I'm talking to you doesn't mean I'm stupid."_  
><em>

"Of course not, of course not." Crowley hurriedly smoothed over. "But I had to try, kid."

"Of course you did."

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><p><strong>Please read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	48. We Are Brothers

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><p>"Adam, I want you to stay out of the dungeon."<p>

"Why?"

"Wh - _why_?!" Dean snapped, glaring. "Why do you think? We've got the damn King of Hell down there!"

"Yeah, I know. And he's about a thousand times more fun to talk to than you are." Adam's voice was reasonable, calm even, and Dean ground his teeth. It was like talking to a brick wall! At least with Sam he could (usually) appeal to the 'I'm the big brother and I know best' card...but here that got him nada.

This had not been his day. Like _at all_. First off he had overheated his second-hand microwave at breakfast (thanks to the ill-timed egg burrito the damn thing wouldn't even start without smoking) and then he had been given the cold shoulder from Sam...again...AND THEN Adam had disappeared only to be found in the dungeon, sitting at Crowley's feet like he was a freaking disciple, and chatting merrily away about what dicks Sam and Dean were.

He was entirely unrepentant too. Dean didn't even know what to say. "What the hell were you even doing down there in the first place?"

Adam flushed, looking away. "I fancied a walk." He said flatly. "Are we done?"

"No we certainly are not! You stay away from Crowley. All he does is lie."

There was a snort from his younger brother. "Well you two should get on well, then." Adam said, getting to his feet and heading for the door. "And Crowley didn't leave me downstairs for years. You and Sam need to pull together your crap and either get a freaking divorce or get the hell over it."

"We don't need to 'get a divorce'" Dean said sourly.

"Well clearly you do. You're fighting like a couple of spurned lovers or whatever. Get over yourselves already! While you sort it out, I will be in my room with Sam's laptop and some Star Trek." With that, Adam stalked out of the kitchen before Dean could think up a satisfactory reply.

* * *

><p>"Sammy?"<p>

"What, Dean?" Sam didn't even look up from the book he was reading...a heavy tome on angelic theories, Dean noticed with a wince. Man. Sam didn't hold grudges very often, but whenever he did he got obsessive.

"I, uh, can we talk?"

Sam heaved a sigh that did indeed sound extremely weary. "If we must, Dean, and if you actually have something that needs saying."

Feeling unusually nervous (and hating that a conversation with Sam was making him feel this way) Dean came into Sam's room and shut the door behind him, pulling Sam's desk chair over and sitting down next to his brother who was sitting cross-legged on the bed, surrounded by books.

A couple of times Dean opened his mouth to speak, but each time he thought better of what he was going to say and shut it again.

Sam waited patiently.

Finally, "Do you have something to say, Dean? Or are you going to sit there and stare at me all night?"

"Just trying to figure out how to say it without royally screwing it all up again."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Well you could try starting at the beginning. I'm told it's a very good place to start."

"Hey! No quoting Broadway while I'm trying to hold a serious discussion." That got a reluctant, faint grin out of Sam and Dean felt himself relax a bit. "Dude, when was the last time we just kicked back and did something for fun?"

"I dunno. Movie night at Bobby's week after I got my soul back?"

"Yeah. Indiana Jones, wasn't it?"

"Mmmhmmm."

They sat in silence for a while before Dean spoke again. "You know, Sammy. Once we get this whole mess with Metadouche and Ababitch figured out, we should just take off for a while. Have an honest-to-God road trip. Head out to Vegas."

"Yeah."

Dean took a deep breath. "Sammy I...God...I'm sorry."

Sam stiffened and the laid-back expression tightened instantly. "What?"

"You heard me. I'm sorry for lying to you about Eze-Gadreel." Dean figured that a straightforward approach was probably for the best and, in a rare moment of feeling open, laid all of his cards out on the table for his younger brother to pick up or scatter as he chose. Jody had said that being honest was the best policy and, quite frankly, Dean was sick of the lies and of the arguing. It was supposed to be them against the rest of the world, dammit! "Sammy, you know that there isn't anything I'd put in front of you, right?"

"Are we seriously going to do this now?" Sam had all of his shields slammed into place, like he feared that if he opened himself up like he had in that church it would all come back to bite him again. "Dude, whatever happened to 'no chick-flick moments'?"

He was trying for levity, but all it did was tighten the ache in Dean's chest. What had happened to them that they were reduced to dancing on eggshells around each other?

"I know that you've been pretty pissed at me recently - " He ignored Sam's snort. " - and I don't blame you. Hell, I'm pretty pissed with myself. And I know that I can't ever really make it up to you...so I want to say that I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry for starting the lying again and for tricking you into saying 'Yes'."

Sam let out a whistling breath and closed his eyes. "You were wrong, Dean." He said softly. "And I'm not even going to pretend that I'm not...hurt by it. You know my history with possession and you did it anyway and then whenever I tried to explain, you just wouldn't listen. Again. It was like you were trying to make _me _the wrong one."

Dean winced. "I didn't mean to." He said.

"I just...I don't know if I can trust you, Dean." Sam looked pained. "I do trust you with my life. We're partners, I kind of have no choice, but I'm not sure if I can trust you with myself."

"You're my _brother_!"

"Dean...have you ever noticed that everything that has EVER gone wrong between us has been BECAUSE we are brothers?"

That probably should have hurt more than it did. "No, Sammy. That's not true. Everything that has gone wrong between us has been because someone lied. At Stanford it was a combination of the two of us. After Dad died it was me. After Hell it was both of us. On and on and on...it's pretty obvious that the lies are what pull us apart. And this last one was all on me. It's my fault, and I'm so, SO sorry!"

Sam was silent for a long moment before, "Thank you, Dean." He said quietly. "That...that helps a lot. For my part, I'm sorry too."

"Guess we really screwed up this time, huh, little brother?"

"Yeah." Sam took a deep breath. "Thanks, Dean. It doesn't fix everything but...it's a start."

"Bitch." Dean said fondly, smiling gently at his brother who tentatively returned the look.

"Jerk."

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><p><strong>Please do read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	49. It's Where My Demons Hide

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><p>First chance he got, Adam slipped away from Sam and Dean who were dancing around each other in the kitchen while Dean made supper, and slunk down to the dungeon.<p>

"Crowley?" He said softly. "You awake?"

"I don't sleep. Have Moose and Squirrel finally kissed and made up?"

Resisting the urge to gag at the mental image, Adam shook his head. "I don't know. Not like I can exactly ask them _that_...just...eww!" Crowley chuckled and Adam shuddered off the idea, dropping what he had brought on the table in front of Crowley. "There." He said. "It's a colouring book and a pack of crayons."

"I can see that."

"Figured it must get pretty boring down here, y'know? So there's plenty of pictures in there and a couple of crosswords and word finds."

Crowley opened the book and stared with some contemplative approval at the first picture which was, Adam knew, Poison Ivy from Batman: The Animated Series. He walked over to the edge of the devil's trap (a good distance away from the demon chained within) and slid down with his back to the wall, enjoying the peace and quiet as Crowley flipped through the colouring book that Adam had found in the backseat of Dean's car.

"So, kid." Crowley said presently. "What's with all the 'Once Upon A Time' rubbish? I stopped watching after they introduced Oz...bloody fairies."

Adam wrinkled his nose. "What?"

"Regina? Emma? Captain Hook? You mean to tell me you've never beheld the beauty of Emma Swan?"

Had the King of Hell finally cracked? "Uh...no. Can't say that I have."

Crowley harrumphed. "Anyway, Shrimp, what's with this 'once upon a time' stuff that Moose practically throttled me over the other day."

"Sam did what?"

"He seemed to think that I've been psychically entering your dreams and further scrambling your eggs. As if I would get anywhere NEAR that melon of yours!"

Oh. "I, uh, yeah. I know what that's about?"

"Well then what? My meatsuit's neck will never be the same again."

Adam leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. "It's just a habit I have." He said slowly, taking deep breaths and cracking a sickly smile. "You'd be surprised how boring it is with Lucy and Michelle. Oh sure being fed your own toenails isn't exactly a riot, but the rest of the time is utterly dull. Seriously. I have no idea why you demons idolise those two over-ego'd babies."

"Not all demons."

"Whatever." Adam rolled his eyes. "I guess it was...it's a habit. A 'coping mechanism', if I remember my Intro to Psyche classes correctly." He shrugged, pressing his hands together. "Not a big deal. Sam and Dean are just melodramatic."

"I'd drink to that if I had anything worth drinking."

* * *

><p>"What the HELL?!"<p>

Crowley looked up from his half-finished picture of Harley Quinn and grinned. "Hello, Moose!" He called cheerfully. "Come to join our slumber party?"

Dean peered around Sam, holy water flask in hand, and his eyes fastened on Adam...narrowing dangerously. "Sammy." He said softly. "You handle Dickus Rex here, okay?"

Sam took the flask of holy water and glared at Crowley who smirked. "Did you remember the fishnets, Sammy-boy?"

* * *

><p>"Ow! OWWW!" Adam whined as Dean grabbed him by the left ear and frogmarched him from the dungeon. "Stoppit! That hurts!"<p>

"Good." Dean said tersely, not relenting in his grip. "I should be putting my boot so far up your ass that it'll take up permanent residence next to your liver!"

"What did _I _do?"

"You know EXACTLY what you did! I expressly told you to stay out of the dungeon and away from Crowley and what do we find you doing? Chatting up the friggan' KING OF HELL!"

Adam pouted. "He listens."

"Yeah. And then he screws you over." Dean let go of Adam's ear and grasped him by the shoulders, digging his thumbs into Adam's collarbones and holding on tightly. "I don't want you talking to him any-more, d'you hear? Crowley is poison. The ONLY reason he is still alive is that we may need him for information or as a bargaining chip. If it weren't for that I would have killed him already, but as it stands we may need him, so you stay the hell away."

"Oh go screw yourself!" Adam jerked himself away. "You're not my freaking mother, Dean!"

"No, but I am your big brother."

"So?"

Dean glared. "So it is my responsibility to keep you away from damn dicks like Crowley. To keep you safe."

"Yeah...cause locking me up downstairs kept me _sooo _safe." Adam sneered. "Just shut the hell up, Dean. I'm not a baby and I can damn well look after myself." He shoved past his brother and ran up the hallway.

"Adam! Adam Milligan!" Dean yelled. "Don't you - "

Adam was gone.

* * *

><p>"So, Dean, what the hell is going on?" Sam came into the library, cradling split knuckles gingerly.<p>

"What happened to you?"

Sam shrugged. "Crowley pissed me off." He said. "Now are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Dean sighed, rubbing the little throbbing ache between his eyebrows. "Adam seems to be under the impression that Crowley is a good therapist." He said, saying the name Crowley as though it belonged to a particularly irritating breed of cockroach...which it kind of did. "He's been sneaking down there for days now, sitting in the dark and freaking CHATTING with the King of Hell."

"Well," Sam said, frowning. "It's not like we were exactly available. I mean...do we even know how he's been coping? Has he had nightmares? Or flashbacks? Or, hell, anything?"

"I don't know. The kid's a regular clam."

There was a pointed cough from his brother. "That's, uh, kind of a family trait, Dean." Sam said.

"Yeah, well, I'm going to damn well beat it out of him if I find him down there with Crowley again. Maybe we should just stab the dick and get it over with. Not like Abaddon is going to care. Hell...she'll probably send us a fruit basket!"

"We're not stabbing Crowley. Not yet."

Dean frowned. "Every minute we leave him alive is another minute that he's able to screw us over again. I say we learn from our mistakes and dispose of him."

"Well if you find Adam down there again, I'll hold Crowley down so you can stab him. Deal?"

"Deal."

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><p><strong>Read &amp; Review! <strong>


	50. The Terrible Teens

.

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><p>"Adam, c'mon, come out. Supper's ready." Dean pounded on Adam's locked door fruitlessly. "We even got a six-pack of that liquid snot you call Mountain Dew!"<p>

"I'm not hungry." Adam replied from behind the door. "Go away."

"I don't care. You are going to come out and eat supper with us."

"Or what?"

Dean gritted his teeth. "Adam John Milligan! You open up this door right now!"

"No."

"I'll break it down, I'm not bluffing!"

"Go ahead. I don't care."

"Adam, stop behaving like a two-year-old just because your demon buddy is off-limits. You're nineteen years old. Act like it!"

"You're a jerk!"

"And you're a brat, so shut up and come out already."

"No."

If it were any other time, Dean would have said _"Fine!" _and left Adam to stew on his own a while until he got hungry enough to come crawling out, but damn it all Dean had worked HARD on this dinner! He had scrounged the recipe up after seeing it on a pop-up and had spent a day juggling ingredients and dodging cranky moms with cranky kids at the grocery store in order to make it. Adam and Sam were going to eat and they were going to be grateful or else he'd tan their hides himself! "Adam..." He said warningly, but before he could push the matter further, his phone rang.

He would have just ignored the opening guitar riff to 'Smoke on the Water' and kept on in his quest to de-hermit-a-fy Adam, but Sammy was out on a jog and if he was calling Dean for something more serious than just asking if Dean wanted him to pick up one pack of gum or two then Dean really needed to pick up that phone. They had had too many times when ignoring a phone-call got them arrested or beat up or accidentally started the Apocalypse.

"We're not through." Dean said threateningly to Adam, digging out his cell. Adam made a rude sound from the other side of the door and Dean glared at it, taking a deep, calming breath before answering the phone. "I swear to God, Sammy, this better be importan - "

"You must not have Caller ID on your phone, Dean." The solemn gravel of Castiel came from the other end of the line and Dean groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry, Cas. New phone. Had to ditch the old one and...wait. Where'd you get my number?"

"I called Sam. He gave it to me."

"Right." There was a moment of awkward silence before Dean sighed. "What's up, Cas?"

"The sky."

Dean was never entirely certain if the angel was being dead serious or deadpan sarcastic with some of those statements. Talking to Castiel could be frustrating. "What's going on? If it's another case involving your dickbag brothers or demons, I don't want to hear it. Screw 'em both!"

"It is not a case." Castiel said.

"Well then what? I was kind of in the middle of something here."

There was a pause. "Are you at the Bunker?"

"Yeah."

"I am approximately twenty minutes away. Would it...would it be possible for me to come in for a few minutes?"

For a moment Dean was at a loss as to why Castiel was asking so nervously if he could visit, before he remembered with a wince what that _dick _Gadreel had made him do to their friend. Well that would just have to change! "Of course it's fine, Cas! We're just having supper and - " The blare of a semi horn blasted through the speakers and Dean frowned. "Cas?" He said slowly. "Um, are you trying to drive and talk on the phone at the same time?" He wasn't even entirely sure if the former angel _could _operate an automobile, but it didn't sound like Castiel was on a bus.

"Yes." Cas said solemnly, giving Dean nightmarish visions of him weaving precariously in and out through traffic on the interstates that even a seasoned (and reckless) driver like Dean himself avoided like the plague._  
><em>

"Dude! Hang up already and concentrate on getting here in one piece...God!" Dean slammed his phone shut and stalked over to Adam's door, giving it a solid kick. "Did you hear that, you brat?" He demanded. "Five minutes I want to see you in the kitchen, got it?"

He walked away, just catching Adam's response of _"What crawled up YOUR ass and bit you?" _as he went. He would deal with that later.

* * *

><p>"So, Dean. What did Cas say? Is it a case?"<p>

"Dude! Go take a shower...you stink!"

Sam made a bitchface in Dean's general direction and snagged a Gatorade out of the fridge. "What did Cas want?"

"He's coming over for a while." Dean winced as a bit of the orange drink dripped onto Sam's shirt. That was going to be a bitch to get out later. "Say, how'd he know your number? We changed phones just recently."

"I texted him." Sam said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "If he's going to be stuck out there with all of his brothers and sisters out for his head, then the least we can do is make sure he has us on speed-dial. In fact, I still don't understand why he had to leave in the first place. If it was some kind of misplaced 'guilt' thing - " Dean privately felt that Sam was in _no _position to be talking about that, " - then we kind of need to set the record straight. It's not like he's got wards and a whole pack of werewolves to keep him safe like Kevin does. This would be the safest place for him."

Dean sighed. "I'll talk to him." He said. "Now, Sasquatch, how about you go and clean up before you drip sweat all over my kitchen?" As Sam headed out of the room, Dean called after him. "Oh...and see if you can get Adam to emerge from his cave for a while. The kid's going to start eating raw fish and hissing _My Precious _if he doesn't watch it."

There was a guffaw from Sam that echoed through the Bunker and made Dean crack a smile. God he'd missed hearing that!

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><p><strong>Please do read &amp; review! Feedback is greatly appreciated. :)<strong>


	51. Life Of Pie

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><p>"Adam?" Sam knocked on Adam's door. "Hey, dude, open up."<p>

There was a grumbling sound from the other side and, after a crash and some cursing, Adam unlocked the door and appeared, rubbing his foot where he had apparently tripped over his sandals. Sam noted that they would have to make a thrift shop run and augment Adam's wardrobe soon. "What d'you want, Sam?" Adam asked, limping over and flopping on his bed.

"Are you planning on coming out for supper?"

"Dean sent you, didn't he?"

Sam shrugged. "Kind of, yeah. But I would have come even if he hadn't mentioned it."

"Yeah, I bet." Adam snorted under his breath. "Look. You can tell Dean that I 'appreciate' his need to play Betty Crocker, but I'm not hungry and I really don't feel like sitting out there and staring at you all eat like I'm in a fishbowl."

Great. He was in a _mood_. Sam wondered for a moment if maybe he should apply John and Dean for a joint sainthood seeing as how they had somehow managed to put up with him during his teen years. Without being driven to homicide.

"You do know that Dean spent practically all day making this meal, right? Practically chased me from the kitchen with a meat cleaver while he was in the process. The least you could do is come oo and aw at his masterpiece."

Adam scowled. "If I must."

"You do."

"Fine."

* * *

><p>"So, is he coming out?" Dean was circling the table, putting out napkins.<p>

Sam stood transfixed for a moment. "Uhh, dude, what the hell are you doing?"

"Making daisy chains...what does it _look _like I'm doing?! I'm setting the damn table!"

"We never do that, Dean." Truthfully, the only time Sam could remember eating at a set table that wasn't a restaurant was the few years of faux normality he had stolen with Jess and Amelia. What was going on?

Dean looked awkward. And annoyed. "Found these in one of the drawers." He said. "And the sauce is kind of messy. Seems a shame to send anything to the landfill whenever we have perfectly functional napkins and...stop smirking at me like that!"

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to say anything. I know that look."

"Fair enough." Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets and inhaled deeply. "It all smells great, Dean. Do you need help with anything?"

Dean did a quick sweep of the table with his eyes. "Actually, yes. If you think you can put out the drinks without spilling anything, have at it." He winked, letting Sam know that he knew that Sam wasn't really _that _incompetent. It was just Dean's job to take the piss at every chance he got.

Sam headed out to the kitchen and retrieved three beers (watering Cas' down a bit...the last thing they needed was for the former angel to get tipsy again because his mojo no longer burnt off alcohol). He also got out a can of Mountain Dew, shuddering a bit at the thought of everything the cocktail of artificial flavours and acid could do to a body, and popped it open for Adam. Maybe some of the soda he had been eyeing up last time they stopped at a convenience store would put him in a better mood?

The sight of the beer bottles and soda can along with the fancy, embossed napkins and styrofoam plates on the table made Sam crack a smile at the sheer clash of items. Only Dean...

Dean's phone buzzed with a text. "Cas is here." He said, glancing at it and heading for the door while jabbing a menacing finger in Sam's general direction. "_Don't _touch anything while I'm gone!" He headed up the stairs and unlocked the door for their visitor. "Hey, Cas!" He said, grinning. "How are you doing?"

"I am well, Dean." Castiel replied. "I brought pie." He thrust an armful of apple, pecan, and what looked like rhubarb pie in individual plastic containers at Dean. "I wasn't certain which kind you preferred, so I took some of each."

"You took? Did you steal it?"

Castiel looked scandalised. "No!" He said. "I, well, it was pay-day yesterday."

Dean shrugged his apology for the assumption and cracked open the lid of the top container to sniff at the little patch of Heaven contained therein. "Thanks, Cas." He said. "These are all great...and Sammy really likes rhubarb." Cas beamed, looking ridiculously happy, and Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, looking past his friend. "Please don't tell me that hunk of junk out there is yours? What are you, a pimp?"

"It was all that was available. My auto theft skills are still quite 'green'."

"Riiight. Well I'll crack open the hood later and see if I can make sure it doesn't give out on you before you get back to...wherever it is you're living now. C'mon in."

* * *

><p>"Cas, hey!" Sam grinned and waved as Cas came in.<p>

Castiel frowned. "How are you doing, Sam?" He asked, peering closely at the middle Winchester.

"I'm fine."

"I have learned that the word 'fine' takes on a new definition when used by you two. Are you truly fine or are you not really fine after all?"

Sam chuckled. "I'm fine fine, Cas." He said. "You're getting me mixed up with Mr. Macho over there."

"Hey!"

Castiel was still squinting at Sam in a manner, that had it been anyone else, would have been utterly awkward and creepy. But it was Cas...so they cut him some slack. Poor guy had only been on Earth as a part of active society for a few years, after all. "I brought pie." He said at last.

"You bet he did!' Dean said, grabbing the containers and shoving his mountain of potatoes aside to make room for the apple one. "Mmm mmm, smells great! Now if Adam will just get his bratty butt out here, we can eat. I'm starving!"

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><p><strong>Reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated. They're like pie for Dean...<strong>


	52. Paradise Lost

.

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><p>"Oh look, he emerges." Dean grinned as Adam scowled at him and made a rather rude gesture. "Took you long enough, brat. Damn ice cream is melting."<p>

Adam immediately perked up. "Ice cream?"

"Not until you've eaten dinner."

Dean sat down at the head of the table and set about carving his roasted lemon chicken while Sam took charge of serving the rest of the food. It was nice and warm and even, Dean had to admit, homey. This would be a pleasant meal, just so long as they could get through it without Castiel inadvertently setting Adam off.

But, Dean figured, if he could play peacemaker for a meal involving Adam and Kevin and provide marriage counselling for a couple of pissed off ancient witches, then he could probably deal with anything Cas could accidentally instigate.

But he hoped that he wouldn't have to.

Cas took a bite of pie and made a face. "Interesting." He said softly.

"What's interesting, dude?"

Castiel looked at Dean and cocked his head to the side. "When I was human," He said, "I grew rather fond of PB&J sandwiches."

"Okay, I'm going to stop you right there. WHEN you were human? You're human now, pal."

"I was. But my 'mojo', as you call it, has been restored." Castiel said around a mouthful of apples and crust, complete with air quotes.

Dean sat back and blinked for a moment before he grinned. "Good on you, Cas!" He declared, clapping the (reinstated) angel on the back and making him splutter crumbs across the table and into Sam's hair.

Sam shook himself like a wet dog and smiled. "How'd you do that, Cas? I thought Metatron took your Grace."

Castiel looked somewhat awkward. "I, uh, I was investigating a case." He said quietly. "There was an alcohol establishment - a biker's bar - that was the site of the massacre. I thought of calling you two, but I figured that you had enough on your plate, so I went alone."

"Well, dammit, Cas. You know we would have come if you'd called."

"Yes indeed. Which is precisely why I did not."

There was a cough from the middle Winchester. "So how does this play into you getting your wings back?"

"No wings. Just essence, Grace. My wings are, sadly, just as crippled as those of my brethren, and the Grace I am using is not even my own." Castiel ducked his head, looking somewhat ashamed. "I was captured and, in order to escape, I was forced to steal Grace from one of my brothers. I slit his throat and I..."

"You did what had to be done." Dean said firmly as Sam reached across and awkwardly patted Cas on the arm. "Nobody's blaming you, man. The other guy was probably a dick anyway."

"No. He wasn't."

"Well," Dean shifted in his seat, "You still did what you had to do."

They ate in silence for a moment before Adam spoke up. "So what you're saying is that all you have to do to become an angel is to chow down on some of their pixiedust?" All three members of the unit formerly known as Team Free Will turned and stared at him, shocked that he had actually spoken. Adam shifted uncomfortably. "What? Just asking!"

"That is...not a perfect metaphor, no." Castiel said. "Humans and angels are still essentially different, even one such as me whose Grace was taken and who was locked inside of their vessel. I had no human soul and this is still Jimmy's body, not mine."

"Yeah, I know." Adam said. "I'm closely acquainted with angelic possession, y'know."

"I do indeed."

Adam shot Castiel a poisonous look. "You molotov'd me, I'd hope that you would!" The angel winced and Adam filled his mouth with a chunk of apple pie a la mode. "So." He said, speaking around the filling. "How does this whole human-to-angel thing work, anyway?"

"Well, when Metatron took my Grace, I was tied to my vessel. I became, in essence, human...though I did not possess a human soul. If I were to die, it is not certain if my soul would have indeed gone to Heaven as Metatron suggested. It's complicated to explain in a manner that your minds could comprehend. There have been only a few cases like mine throughout the years, and in every case the angel in question either died in the process or had their consciousness reborn as an infant."

"So what would happen if a regular human guzzled a bunch of angelic mojo or whatever?"

"They would explode."

Adam raised an eyebrow at Cas' bluntness. "Okaaay. Guess I'm just lucky that the Douchebag Duo didn't try to feed me any, then."

* * *

><p>"Sam, I see that you are no longer in need of angelic healing."<p>

Dean stifled a groan and reached for his beer as Sam frowned and the temperature suddenly went down a couple of degrees.

"What?"

Castiel frowned. "I assumed that Dean had told you but, if I was wrong...?" He trailed off and looked at Dean with a hint of curiosity and more than a hint of disapproval. Adam looked between them and Sam with wide eyes, putting down his second slice of pie with a hard swallow.

"Oh my God!" Sam said suddenly. "You...you _knew_, didn't you, Cas? You knew about Dean putting an angel inside of me?!"

"I confess I did." Castiel said, still giving the hairy eyeball to Dean. "I had hoped that, by now, your brother would have taken my advice and apprised you of the situation but, if not, I apologise and - "

"Cas? Shut up, will you?" Dean cut in. "Sam already knows and we've discussed it. Right, Sammy?"

Sam gave Dean a black look. "Yes." He said. "We have. And that lying son of a bitch is gone, hopefully for good."

"Ezekiel was a good soldier, Sam."

"Ah, about that, Cas." Dean shifted uncomfortably (the pie was not settling in his stomach for some reason...) "The dick I shoved into my brother wasn't named Ezekiel."

Castiel's eyes widened. "Well then who was it?"

"Some douchebag named Gadreel."

"GADREEL?! Dean...you said it was Ezekiel."

"Yeah, that's what he _told_ me." Dean said, but Sam shushed him.

"Cas?" He said, leaning forward. "Who is Gadreel?"

The angel sighed. "Gadreel hasn't been heard from for more years than you humans have counted. Some of us thought that he was dead, but we knew that he had been locked up by Michael in Heaven's jail."

"They have jail in the big house upstairs?"

"Oh yes." Castiel said. "Just for angels, mind. Our part of Heaven is on a completely different wavelength from the paradise that the souls enjoy. Gadreel was something of a legend among the younger angels and the fledglings. He was an infamous prisoner, you might say."

"Infamous for what?"

"For letting Lucifer into the Garden of Eden, of course."

Sam flinched and Adam shoved his chair back from the table. "Oh just perfect." He said, glaring at Castiel. "Next I suppose you're going to tell us that he came to Sam because of what the friggan' DEVIL did to him!"

"It...does cross my mind, now that you mention it.

Dean growled low in his throat. "If I ever see that SON OF A BITCH again, I'm going to stab him, just on principle!"

"You'll have to get in line." Sam said.

"Yeah. Really." Adam snorted. They all looked at him and he shrugged. "_What_?! I'm not a fan of angels in general...gimme a break."

* * *

><p>"So, Cas. You've got your mojo back, that's great. What are you going to do now? Are you going to keep your job and work?"<p>

Cas perched on the seat of Dorothy's motorcycle while Dean poked about under the hood of his...acquired vehicle. "I don't really know." He said. "I do know that this stolen Grace isn't a perfect fix. Sooner or later it will burn out and most likely kill me whenever it does."

Dean pulled his head out of the fuel lines. "Cas...what are we going to do?"

"Nothing." Castiel said. "I'm going to finish the last bit of healing on Sam's lungs before I leave and then I'm going to go and try to fix the mess I made in Heaven. It's the least I can do."

"Aw, hell, Cas. It's not your fault."

"Yes it is. If I had just listened to you and put aside my self-righteous zeal for once, I would have seen through Metatron's scheme."

"Maybe you would or maybe you wouldn't have...but I'm by far the last person who should be judging others, considering some of the things I have done."

"Like what?"

"Well breaking the First Seal for one. Or how about pushing Sammy right into the arms of that demon bitch, Ruby? Or, more recently, shoving an angel down his throat despite his history with possession? I also forgot that my own brother was in Hell with the Devil himself. I'd say that was pretty shitty."

Cas frowned and tipped his head to one side. "We all have sinned, Dean." He said. "But that doesn't mean we can't work towards redemption."

"And that, Cas, is exactly what we seem to do the whole damn time."

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><p><strong>Reviews and feedback are always appreciated! :)<strong>


	53. Omens & Portents

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><p>"So you're taking off in the morning, Cas?"<p>

"Yes." The angel picked at his popcorn. "There is much for me to do, and someone really should go and locate Gadreel. If I am right in assuming that he was in Sam ever since shortly after we all fell, then he has seen everything that Sam has seen over the past few months. He knows where this Bunker is. He knows many of your passwords. He knows any information that Sam might have read here. He knows about your brother, Adam. He knows that you have the King of Hell in your dungeon."'

Sam sighed. "Most of the supernatural world seems to know about Adam." He said. "Or at least the demons do. When we found him in the cemetery, there were a couple of Abaddon's demons there with him."

"Yes. That would make sense. Whatever pulled him from the Cage would have created quite a disturbance. It would have taken something extremely powerful to crack open that part of Hell now."

"Well _you _got in and sprung Sam."

"Yes, but when I went in Hell was in chaos. The whole world had been entirely turned on its head by the averted Apocalypse. Heaven was in civil war, the monster world was in upheaval, and there was a mighty power vacuum in Hell. How do you think Crowley managed to rise to power?"

Dean shrugged. "I figured that he bribed, blackmailed, and bullied his way to the top of the garbage heap like most politicians do."

There was a snort from Sam and Castiel's face worked as if he was swallowing a smile. "That no doubt played a large part in it, but Crowley was merely the leader of the Crossroads Demons before. If Lilith, Alistair, and all of the other Elder demons and Knights of Hell had not been killed in the Apocalypse, then Crowley never could have risen to power. When I rescued you, Dean, it took an entire garrison of angels to lay siege to Hell. I was merely the first one to break through and catch hold of you. And, as you know, the upper echelons wanted us to rescue you."

"Yeah, I know. So what you're saying is...what _did _pull Adam out?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think it could have been someone in Abaddon's camp? Demons have access to the Cage, right?"

Sam shook his head. "They might, but they tend to stay as far away as possible. Trust me."

"Dammit. So I guess summoning one and interrogating it is out?"

Castiel tipped his head to one side, considering. "It probably would not hurt to ask. But there is no need to summon one. Crowley is still in your dungeon, is he not?"

"Yeah."

"Then before I leave I will have a..._discussion_ with him."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fair enough. But let us get Adam out of here before you do. For some reason the kid seems to like that dick and he's so screwed in the head right now, he might take exception to your method of conversation."

"Yes, I sensed much darkness and weariness in his spirit." Castiel said quietly.

"Getting spit out of Lucifer's Dorm Room will do that to you." Dean said, prompting a wince and a grimace from Sam.

"Cas...how is he doing?" Sam asked. "He seems fine, but then again he hasn't really been talking to us much recently. I had thought that we were getting through to him, but then the whole thing with Gadreel happened and now...now it's like he's not even talking to us unless he can't avoid it. He spends hours locked up in his room and before that, he was talking to _Crowley _of all people, can you tell us anything?"

"I'm an angel, not a psychic, Sam."

"Please?"

Castiel was no more a match for the pleading, puppy-dog look than Dean ever was and sighed. "If you want the truth, your brother is drowning. Lucifer and Michael were not kind to him in the Cage and every day he hovers on a thin line between reality and memory."

"I thought he was doing better." Dean said.

The angel gave him a look. "Dean...have you ever really gotten better from your time as Alistair's student?"

Dean flinched. "I guess not. Never really think about it, to be honest."

"Your brother is fighting a battle against his own mind. He will need all the support you can give him...much in the same way that Sam needed you after I broke the wall Death set up."

"You broke the wall in Sam's head? Wow. Dick move."

Dean, Sam, and Castiel all jumped and turned around to where Adam was lounging in the doorway, arms crossed. "Adam!" Dean said, swallowing hard. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough." He shrugged. "If you wanna interrogate Crowley, sure, go ahead. I don't mind." Dean raised an eyebrow and Adam glared. "Dude, he's a demon! What, d'you think I'm an idiot? I _am _just fresh from...downstairs, y'know."

"Why don't you say it, Adam?"

Adam glared at Castiel. "Why don't I say what?"

"Where you were? Why are you so reluctant to call it by name?"

"I'm not." Adam shrugged. "I just don't. No big deal."

"Then name it."

"What?"

Castiel looked at Adam intently. "Then name it. Call it by its proper name."

"I...what?" Adam looked between their faces a bit wildly, hunching in on himself protectively and backing away. "No! That's just weird! Stop it!" He forcibly straightened himself up and sneered. "I appreciate the analysis by Dr. Freud here, but I'm fine. Just leave me the hell alone!"

"Gee, Cas. Way to be sensitive!" Dean said as Adam fled - again - from the scene. It seemed like Adam had been running off a lot recently. "Let's just hope that he doesn't go crying to Crowley again."

Sam got to his feet and chased after Adam, hoping to do some damage control. Castiel sighed. "I'm sorry, Dean." He said softly. "But do you see what I was talking about? Being human didn't just give me a chance to appreciate the little, mortal things like food and drink and merriment...it also gave me a new perspective on humans in general. I noticed when I met him before that Adam was struggling, but now that my Grace is returned I can feel it."

"Yeah, well, we'll do what we can to help him. Kid's a regular clam, though."

"If by 'clam' you are referring to someone who is slow to talk about how they're really doing rather than a type of shellfish, then yes. I would say that it is a family trait."

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><p><strong>Read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	54. Around The Plot And Back Again

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><p><em>Hellfire. Darkness. Pain. Memories. Hellfire. Darkness. Pain. Memories. Hellfire. Darkness. Pain. Memories...<em>

"Have you had time to reconsider your answer?"

Adam spit out a bit of blood from where he had bitten his tongue and glared at the Queen Bitch herself, Abaddon. "Why don't you go screw yourself? You're way too tensAAAAAH!"

He slumped down, panting as the searing pain flared and then abated and Abaddon frowned at him. "Now, now...that _was _rude!" She said. "It would be so much easier for you if you would just listen to teacher and answer my questions."

"Yeah, well, I never did very well in school." Adam smirked at her, feeling the pain burn through all of his veins and ruthlessly shoving down the memories of hellfire that it threatened to bring to the surface. _Conceal. Don't let her know it bothers you. You've done this before. You'll make it. _"I don't suppose you have HBO around here? I've been meaning to check out the finale for True Blood..."

Clearly disgusted and swiftly losing patience, Abaddon cut him off. "Enough chit-chat. Tell me where Crowley is!"

"No." Was he a glutton for punishment?

Yeah. Probably. Or maybe he was a masochist? Adam laughed rather hysterically as another burst of psychically-induced pain wracked through his body. Did Abaddon Ginger Leather seriously think she was intimidating with this rinse-and-repeat routine? Ha! Haha! He'd done quality time with LUCIFER and Lucifer's pissed-off big brother.

Abaddon had nothing on them...

* * *

><p>"Okay, you slimy, smelly sack of shit...WHERE THE HELL IS HE?!"<p>

Crowley grimaced as Dean shook him and roared in his face, looking almost deranged. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Squirrel." The demon said, blinking away a bit of spittle from Dean's attack. "Where is who?"

"Adam, you son of a bitch." Sam said coldly, standing behind Dean and giving Crowley a dark look that - if he was honest - sent a slight chill up the King of Hell's spine. "Where is our brother?"

"Now, calm down boys." Crowley licked his lips and looked between the two Winchesters. "I've been chained up in here the whole time. What makes you think that I know where your baby brother decided to run off to? Are you sure he's not off making babies with some little GACK!"

Dean tightened his grip on Crowley's collar, choking him. "He's gone, Crowley, so either you start talking or I'm going to let Sammy take a knife and start pulling you apart piece by piece. And, trust me, you don't want Sammy to do that."

Crowley danced on tiptoes for a moment, coughing and pawing at Dean's hands before Sam cleared his throat. "Y'know, dude, if you want him to talk you've kinda got to let him breath." He said calmly. "He may not need it, but his meatsuit's vocal chords won't exactly work."

With a growl, Dean released Crowley who sank back into his chair and massaged his neck irritably. "Watch the suit, would ya?" The demon rasped, glaring at them.

"Start talking."

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><p>His bones were aching and his skin was hot and much too tight. Adam sighed and leaned forward in his bonds (having one's hands chained above one's head was <em>most <em>uncomfortable) and tried to itch his nose by scrunching it up and rubbing it against his shoulder.

All that did was give him a neck cramp. Dammit.

He huffed and blew his bangs up from his forehead. This was BORING! Not that he exactly enjoyed pain (he wasn't quite _that _twisted yet) but Abaddon had left him in this basement FIVE HOURS AGO! He was bored! He was hungry! He had to pee!

This was stupid. And BOOOORING!

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><p>"So, Crowley, start talking or we start cutting."<p>

"And we're not particular about _what _we cut off first, either." Dean sneered.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "You know, Dean, I really think you have a complex. Every time I try to conduct a serious business transaction, you have to bring up dangly bits. Maybe you should see a therapist?"

"Well your bits will get quite a bit less dangly if you don't start talking, bastard!"

"Fine then. I am rather in the dark here about what exactly has happened to your darling brother, so how about you start at the beginning and walk me through your little crisis?"

The brothers exchanged a look before Dean spoke. "We were on a hunt." He said, reluctant to give Crowley any information that wasn't vital.

"You'll have to give me more than that, Squirrel. Dates. Names. People. Places. How do you expect me to know if any of my demons might have nabbed your brother if you don't tell me what you were doing?"

Grinding his teeth, Dean started again. "We were hunting a pishtaco..."

"Bless you."

"...shut up, dick, and listen. We were hunting a pishtaco that was running a fitness retreat centre. Wrapped that case up and went out for milkshakes and pie, turned our backs for a moment, and he was just gone. But there was a layer of sulphur on the door handle."

"Hmmm." Crowley stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting."

"Interesting? Is that all you have to say?!" Sam said incredulously.

"Cool your jets, Moose. You are negotiating my services in finding your brother, and you know that nothing comes for free these days. So what's in it for me?"

"How about we don't stab you through the heart and let you spark for a while?" Dean growled, fingers twitching.

The demon gave him an annoyed look. "Well if you're going to be rude about it, then no thank you. Believe me, if you'd just give me the Colt, I'd shoot myself in the face and take care of it for you just so I don't have to sit here staring at your ugly mugs any longer than necessary. But you can't kill me, because you need me."

Both brothers gritted their teeth because they knew Crowley was right. They could threaten and torture him all they wanted, but he was their best lead and he had them over a barrel. And he knew it.

Dean cleared his throat. "What makes you think that we won't just kill you and get some help from Cas?"

"Castiel?" Crowley smiled knowingly at Dean's attempted bluster. "Now, boys, be honest. Would you be down here shooting the breeze with me if dear old Cassy was answering your prayers?"

And, damn it all, he was right again! They had heard jack squat from Castiel after his visit to the Bunker a week or so ago. Sam swallowed. "What do you want, Crowley?"

"Take the leash off." Crowley rattled the chain attached to his collar. "If I help you find your brother, then I leave here a free man. You take the leash off, you take the cuffs off, and we call it square and go our separate ways."

"Whenever you are done helping us, I give you my word that we'll set you free." Sam said.

"Sam! What the hell?"

Sam gave Dean a stern look. "What other choice do we have?"

Crowley smirked. "Chin up, Little Bo Peep!" He said to Dean. "I'll help you find your little lost lamb and then I'll be on my way."

"Well then get to it." Dean snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling. He did _not _like this! Deals with Crowley never ended well. NEVER.

"All in good time, Squirrel." Crowley said, laying both hands on the table in a position similar to someone from The Office. "Now, Moose, I'm going to need a handful of your blood. I've got to make a call."

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	55. The Puppy-Dog Eyes From Hell

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><p>Abaddon swirled some gin in her glass and glared at the pathetic human she had chained up in her living room who was currently crossing his eyes and trying to touch the tip of his tongue to his nose. Pathetic! She had expected the bastard to be a helpless, quivering puddle of malleable snot and tears by now...but instead he seemed more than happy to insult her taste in dress and make references to pop culture icons.<p>

This was getting her nowhere and was delaying her trip to Lilith's favourite nursery. Dammit.

She needed information on Crowley and she needed it NOW. Abaddon knew that she could never take the throne of Hell until she had won over all of the demons and, oddly enough, there were factions that still stayed loyal to that uppity little worm that called himself the King. Pah! He wouldn't know what it meant to be King of Hell if it hit him in the face!

He needed to be taken out but, in order to do that, she had to know where he was. And, last that she had heard, he was making a deal with the plaid-wearing horrors known as the Winchesters. And the best way to get to them was through their little brother.

If she was being honest, Abaddon was more than a bit annoyed by the way that Adam seemed to be holding up under her best interrogation techniques. She couldn't exactly strip his soul while he was topside, but anything she did to him seemed to have a muted impact. He would scream and cry and beg for mercy...and then grin at her and make a dirty joke.

She was almost getting desperate enough to brave the potential burns from the archangel Grace still inside of him and just possess the bastard to extract the information she needed. (She would extract the Grace she needed first, but the process would probably kill him and a dead Adam Winchester was useless to her.) That was a last resort, though, as it would hurt and probably cripple her for a while and that was the LAST thing she needed now.

What she needed was allies, but with the way the upper eschelons of Hell were all but destroyed, the prospect of anything other than traitorous crossroads demons or brainless black smoke morons was looking dim.

Megara, the daughter of Azazel, was the most recent of the old allies to be dead at Crowley's hand. Shame, really. She may not have been a Knight and had possessed a fondness for playing with fire (most notably with her brazen romp inside Lucifer's vessel) but Abaddon had heard that she had hated Crowley with a passion and, with her training and power, she would have been a valuable ally.

Even if Abaddon would have been forced to eliminate her later...she couldn't have that unstable, angel-seducing whore vying for HER crown, after all. It was bad enough that Lucky the Leprechan (the slimy little crossroads salesman) had laid claim to the throne of Hell, but at least he was no real competition. Megara, though? She would have been a problem. So maybe it was for the best that she was no more after all.

But, damn if that didn't put Abaddon in a bad position! So much had changed in the years between her glorious massacre of the Men of Letters and trip into the future chasing Henry Winchester. Hell was in shambles. The Apocalypse had already happened. The Elder Demons and her fellow Knights were all dead. And angels, with all their power and instability, were roaming the earth leaderless and lacking the strict code she had counted on before. It was chaos...and she just needed to rule it.

Hmmm. Maybe a heated poker to the spine would make the bastard Winchester talk...?

* * *

><p>"Okay, Crowley, what next?" Sam escorted the King of Hell to Baby's backseat and chained him to the door handle.<p>

Dean, still torn between screaming and laughing at the fact that demons had infiltrated the NSA, got in the driver's seat and started up the motor. "Say the word, King GPS."

Crowley smirked. "Well how about heading for the nearest crossroads?" He said. "I have a bit of...personal business to take care of that may help you."

"Well..." Dean exchanged a look with Sam and sighed. "Fine, fine. One crossroads coming up!"

They drove out into the country, picking a nice, secluded crossroads, and parking Crowley's ass firmly inside of a devil's trap.

"Really, boys?" The demon complained. "I'm trying to help you, here. The least you could do is show me a bit of respect."

"The fact that you're standing here alive and breathing is us being pretty damn nice, thank you."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "I'm forever grateful, Moose." He gave a sharp whistle and all the hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood up as a growl and a blast of hot, sulphur-y breath instantly answered it. "There there, sweetie pie!" Crowley almost crooned, kneeling down and cuddling something invisible. "Calm down, princess, Daddy's back!"

Wrinkling his nose, Dean retrieved his holy fire-seared glasses and peered at where the demon was kneeling and accepting slobbery kisses from a HUGE, shadowy beast from Hell.

That he was hugging.

And it was cuddling him back.

With a distinctly doggy grin on its twisted face.

Dean shuddered.

A glance at Sam showed that he too was wearing his glasses and watching the reunion between master and hound with a look that was a cross between irritation and holding-back-the-effects-of-food-poisoning. Dean sympathised. While Sam might have a soft spot for dogs of the non-demonic variety, Dean found that ever since he was torn apart by hellhounds and dragged down to Alistair's boudoir, he really didn't hold any love in his heart for the things. Didn't matter if it was a yorkie terrier or a great dane...he didn't like them.

"Who's been a good girl, then? Who's been a good girl? Did you collect lots of souls for Daddy? Did you?"

"Okay!" Dean cut in before _that _conversation could get any further. "So you've got your pooch. Now what?"

Crowley gave one last ruffle to what Dean thought might be the dog's ears and stood up. "Juliet will help us sniff out where your brother may be held. And, if Abaddon has warded her hideout against us, Juliet can go in there and open the way, won't you, girl?"

Dean sincerely hoped that Crowley would _never _make that pout-y face and use that babyish tone of voice ever again. Juliet let out a sound that, had she been less terrifying in appearance, could almost have been classed as a happy woof. A happy woof that turned into a snarl aimed in Sam's direction as the tall hunter stepped forward.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Moose." Crowley said, hooking a finger into Juliet's scruff and holding her back. "You're the one who gutted Romeo last year at the Cassity farm in Idaho...and Juliet is missing her Romeo."

Both brothers stared at him. What in the _hell_?!

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	56. Road Trip

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><p>"Crowley...are you, are you done?" Dean was more than a little bit disturbed with Crowley's very out-of-character transition into some version of the crazy cat ladies. Was this how all demons behaved around hellhounds? Because if it was, that was just weird!<p>

Crowley gave one last pat to Juliet's head and turned back to the boys with a smile that was some twisted mockery of a proud father showing off his child. "I've explained it all to her." He said. "She _may _not attempt to rip Moose's throat out now."

"Right, great." Sam said, giving the dog a wary look. "So now that your little reunion is over, can we get back to the task at hand?"

"Ah, yes, finding your baby brother. Do you have anything of his on you?"

"I think there's a sock in the backseat."

"That will do." Crowley took a step forward, then made a face as he hit the edge of the devil's trap. "Squirrel, would you please get the sock?"

Dean grimaced at the thought of having to dive into the backseat and grope for one of Adam's used socks, but finding Adam was the priority, so he would do it. If it got the kid back safe and sound he would willing EAT a whole basket full of dirty laundry!

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><p><em>Sixty-six bottles of beer on the wall, sixty-six bottles of beer...<em>

Adam sniggered rather sardonically to himself and winced, shifting and trying to take a bit of the weight off of his arms. With the way he was strung up, he just couldn't win. If he let himself slump down to maybe catch a few winks of sleep, his shoulders protested as joints were strained and torn skin was stretched. But if he stood upright constantly he grew so tired that he fell asleep standing up, only waking as he wrenched aforementioned skin and muscle as he fell forward. He was tired enough that he was sure he was going to start hallucinating soon.

If the exhaustion didn't get to him, then dehydration would. He knew (he just _knew_) that Abaddon had moved him from the basement to the living room, just so that she could torment him by cooking bacon in the kitchen.

He had to admit, it was effective. Far better than stabbing him or using a phonecord on his back. That stung, but at least it was physical pain - the pain that grounded him in real life. If only Abaddon knew that she was really helping him...

Or maybe she did and that was why she had brought him upstairs. If the scent of cooking meat wasn't calling highly uncomfortable memories to the surface, it was reminding him that he had foolishly turned down Dean's offer of a cheeseburger the night before they infiltrated the health centre and, as a result, hadn't eaten anything but an apple in at least two days. Dammit. This really sucked!

Huffing air through his nose, Adam licked his dry lips and swallowed. He was thirsty. Hopefully Abaddon would let him have a drink soon...though he half wondered if he should accept anything from her. He wouldn't put it past her to put something in his water to give him the runs.

Damn her.

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><p>"The dog is NOT going in my car, damn it!"<p>

Sam shot Dean an annoyed look. Now was _not _the time to be complaining about the leather upholstery! It wasn't that Sam was exactly wild about riding the next few miles with a freaking HOUND OF HELL (especially one with an apparent personal vendetta against him) behind them...but Adam was in danger and, if Crowley's dog could sniff out where Abaddon was hiding this time, then Sam would personally buy 'Juliet' a nice, juicy steak whenever it was all over.

The King of Hell rolled his eyes. "Really, Dean, I am insulted that you think she would need to ride in the car. She's got your brother's scent now. There's not a place in Hell or on Earth that Abaddon could stash him so that Juliet can't find them." He patted the dog's head and she licked his hand with a soft whine.

Dean snorted. "Fine." He said. "We'll just wait here then while she nips across the continent and tells us where Ababitch is holed up."

"Nonsense." Crowley said. "The search could take all night. Get a hotel room. Eat something. Sleep. Watch some HBO. You'll need to be fresh to take on Abaddon."

The brothers looked at him suspiciously. "Since when do you care about our sleeping patterns?" Sam asked.

"Since you are using _my _hellhound to go up against the demon who is trying to take over _my _kingdom. It's nothing personal, believe me. Don't take it as a compliment."

"Don't worry. We won't."

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><p>Screw Abaddon! Damn Abaddon! Screw and damn her to HELL!<p>

Or, on second thought, maybe damn her to somewhere else, seeing as how she didn't seem to be afraid of the Pit.

He was going insane...he needed help. He needed sleep. He needed something to drink. Maybe he could turn into a crow and fly far, far away from Maleficent and...no, dammit, that was a Disney movie. He really was losing his mind!

Was this Abaddon's new idea to break him? To leave him alone until he cracked from lack of food and sleep and water and being alone with his own thoughts and memories. Even the marks on his back from where Abaddon had gotten creative with testing out the whipping properties of different household items barely stung. They were little more than scratches, anyway.

He was slipping.

Was he going to die here, aching and (embarrassingly enough) standing in his own filth? It's not like it would be the first time he had died like that...though last time he had been lying down and holding his gnawed intestines in with one hand...but he kind of liked life, crappy as his was, and he knew what was coming in the afterlife. He was bored. He was hurting. And he was going insane.

Where were Sam and Dean anyway?

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	57. Dad Didn't Want Adam To Have Our Lives!

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><p>Once Crowley sent Juliet off (and Dean breathed a sigh of relief that they no longer had a Hellhound hanging around) the brothers got back into the car and grudgingly took Crowley's advice of finding a motel room for the rest of the night. Even if they didn't sleep, they needed a place to regroup.<p>

Crowley's lip curled at the room as Dean pushed open the rust-speckled door. "Well I knew you didn't have taste," The demon complained as they frog-marched him over to a threadbare couch that had seen better days, "But this is just embarrassing!"

Dean forced him down, sending up a cloud of dust from the sofa. "Shut your gob." He said as Sam started drawing a devil's trap on the ceiling above Crowley's head.

"Charming." The demon sniffed.

"Shut it."

Sam shoved a blueberry protein bar in Crowley's direction and then left him to go and join Dean in cleaning and checking their weaponry. "So." He said, shooting a wary look at the demon on the couch who was gingerly wiping off the sofa and leaning back. "What's our next move?"

"Wait for the dog to come back?"

Dean was treated to the bitchface. "_After _the dog comes back."

Crowley muttered something about 'the dog' having a name. Sam and Dean ignored him. "I don't know, man." Dean said. "I guess we get ready to go in there guns blazing and hope that the bitch hasn't messed Adam up _too _much. If he's still in one piece enough to help us fight our way back out, then that would be a big help."

"I wouldn't count on that, Bonnie."

Dean glared at Crowley. "Did I ask you?"

"Do you actually know what's going on in Shrimp's head?" Crowley crossed his arms across his chest. "Because last I checked it was _me _that your baby brother was spilling his guts to, not you."

Sam winced as Dean clenched his jaw stubbornly. "I know enough, Crowley." Dean snapped. "You can keep your damn nose out of it."

"Oh, so you know all about the hallucinations? That sometimes he can't tell you two from the archangels? What _'Once upon a time'_ means?"

Damn! Crowley just didn't give up!

Dean took a deep, calming breath and looked over at the demon with a scowl. "Do you have anything helpful to add, or are you just running at the mouth?"

Crowley sniffed. "I just thought you might want to know, if _dear _Cassie didn't tell you, that you might not be able to count on help from little Adam's corner. The wee lad is losing the plot more and more with every day. By the time Abaddon is done with him, you'll be lucky if he's not a drooling, catatonic vegetable."

Sam sucked in a breath. "Are you done?"

"Even if you're not, I say you are." Dean cut in. "Listen, dickwad, we know that Adam's not exactly working with a clear head right now...what do you think we are? But the kid's strong and he _will _be fine. Everybody said that Sam would be ruined after his trip downstairs too, but that turned out fine, so you can just shut the hell up."

His words were brave, but Dean couldn't help but feel all his muscles ache and cramp as a great need to get moving and get Adam back somewhere safe and protected took over. He HATED just waiting around, unable to do anything but envision the horrors that his youngest brother might be going through. It was bad enough whenever Sam, a formidable and trained hunter, got himself captured...but Dean was only too aware of how very unprepared Adam was.

Aside from the encounters with ghouls and archangels (both of which Adam had not escaped unscathed) the kid was an absolute noob when it came to the supernatural world.

Whenever Sam was captured or threatened Dean went absolutely nuts. Sam was _his_, dammit, and nobody got to kick Sam's ass but him. Fortunately, few people _did _get to kick Sam's ass. Dean should know - he and Sam had trained together in just about every brand of martial arts adapted for street fighting ever since they were kids. If it wasn't ex-marine John pounding the lessons into them, then they were dropped off with Joshua (the resident expert on emulating Harry Houdini) or with Pastor Jim who, for all he was the leader of a flock, was a formidable master of joint locks. Dean pitied the wolf that tried to harm one of Jim's lambs...

But Adam hadn't had that. He hadn't been put through the paces and trained how to pick locks and slip out of knots since a young age. As far as Dean knew, he was clueless about the basics of proper fighting. And while Adam might know a thing or thousand about surviving under torture...

...yeah. Dean felt he was _more _than justified in feeling a sense of urgency after the last one. Even before Crowley's 'insight' into Adam's mental health, Dean had realised that the kid wasn't doing good. How could he miss, what with the wounded, angry eyes and the bloody papers left everywhere. Whenever they could actually manage to trap Adam in a room with them for a while, he was silent and broody and jumpy as hell.

And being captured by Abaddon (again) couldn't be helping any. They needed to find him and find him soon!

Where was that damn dog anyway...?

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><p>"Do you want a drink?"<p>

Adam glared at Abaddon through bleary eyes and tried to tell her to screw herself, but all that came out was a raspy, "P-please."

She smirked, even as he cursed himself for his weakness, and held her hand out from behind her back where a bottle of water and a straw was held. "See this?" She said. "All you have to do is tell me where your brothers have Crowley stashed, and I'll let you have a drink."

He swallowed painfully, "I'm going to die soon anyway." The words felt like broken glass in his dry throat. "So if you don't give me something, you won't get the information anyway." Maybe if he scraped his throat raw enough to bleed he could drink the blood?

"Fine." Abaddon grabbed his jaw painfully in one hand, wrenching it open. She then dumped the contents of the water bottle down his throat, leaving him coughing and choking on the life-giving liquid. "I hope you enjoyed it."

The demon turned and stalked out of the room, leaving Adam gasping for breath and licking every last drop of water from his lips...making sure not to waste any.

He wasn't stupid. He knew that as soon as he gave Abaddon the information she was looking for, he was as good as dead. She would 'extract Michael's Grace' or whatever it was she had been planning to do last time she had caught him (this was _REALLY _getting old) and then probably just slit his throat.

Not to mention the fact that, however irritating Sam and Dean might be, he had an inkling that letting Abaddon know where their 'Batcave' was would spell just about the end for a lot of good things.

He'd made the mistake of blabbing to the wrong people last time...he wouldn't make that same error of judgement again. Even if it meant suffering from pain, hunger, and thirst. What did they think he was? A moron?

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><p>"Kevin, can you do us a favour?"<p>

"Dean? What the hell? It's two in the friggan' morning!" The prophet did indeed sound rather groggy and ticked off.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, dude, I know. Just...you still got that demon tablet?"

"Is that my little buddy Kevin?"

There was a hiss from Kevin's end of the line. "Dean?" He said softly. "Is that...is that Crowley?"

"Just ignore him. He's a dick. Do you still have the demon tablet?"

"Of course!" There was a sound as if Kevin was clambering out of bed. "I've got it in, well, I've got it. What do you need?"

"I need you to look up anything you can find on Knights of Hell and how to kill them."

Kevin coughed. "Doesn't that knife work?"

"Nope. High-power demon. Not even sure if an angel blade would do the trick."

"Right. Um...can I call you back in ten minutes or so?"

Dean ran a hand over his face and looked at Crowley who was lounging on the couch with his hands behind his head and listening intently. "Yeah. That sounds good. Thanks, Kev."

"Don't mention it. Not like I was sleeping anyway."

Kevin hung up and Dean sighed, rubbing his tired eyes and chucking his phone onto the bed before falling back and throwing an arm over his eyes. Across from him, Sam watched him flop back with a frown, lost in thought. He chewed on his lip and worked on cleaning the barrel of their second-best sawed-off to give him _something _to do while they waited. He could see that Dean was twitchy and itching to blow off some steam...and he was no better. But they couldn't very well spar or go out and find a barfight while their brother was in the hands of demonic Knight and they had another demonic bastard trapped on their couch while his hound looked for said missing brother.

Everything about this situation sucked.

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><p><strong>Reviews = feedback = water for Adam. We've gotta help the poor guy out!<strong>


	58. It's A Bloodline

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><p>"Hey, Jody. It's Sam."<p>

"Sam! How are you doing?" The sheriff of Sioux Falls said kindly.

Sam leaned against the Impala and looked at the window where he could see the silhouettes of Crowley and Dean. "I'm okay, Jody. Thanks for asking."

"...and how is Dean?"

"Good. We're, uh, we're mostly good now."

Jody sounded suspicious. "So what's up?"

"I've been trying to hack into the database and you seem to have installed a new firewall."

"Okay." She said. "I'm going to pretend I didn't understand any of that and ask _why _you were trying to hack into the database. Is it for a hunt? Because, y'know, you could always have just called me for the information."

That made Sam smile, despite the situation. "Well here I am." He said. "I'm calling you."

"Indeed you are. So what do you need?"

"I need to know about freak electrical storms, power fluctuations, and cattle mutilations."

A snort from Jody. "Whoa. That's a cheerful one. While I'm looking it up, what exactly would that indicate?"

"Usually whenever there's a bunch of demons in one area (or an extremely active/powerful one) all kinds of things will start to go wrong. The animals will go nuts and the weather will be absolutely insane - freak storms, temperatures out of whack, the works."

"So you're hunting a demon?"

"Yeah. A Knight of Hell, actually."

"Damn. That doesn't sound good." Jody huffed out a sigh. "I really need to defrag my computer, Sam. Just hang in there. It's thinking." Sam chewed on a fingernail and tried not to think about what Adam may be going through. Finally, Jody spoke up. "Okay, Sam." She said, using what was definitely her 'mom voice', "I can hear your brain going a mile a minute even all the way over here, so tell me what's going on? Did you and Dean have a fight?"

Sam huffed out a bitter laugh. "No, Jody, no. We got all that sorted out."

"Is Adam fighting then?"

_God_. "Honestly, Jody. I wish he was." Why did their family keep attracting the worst side of the supernatural? _Why? _"But he's not here right now. Abaddon got him."

"Now I don't know who Abaddon is, but...it sounds bad."

"She is. She's the Knight of Hell we're hunting and she's pretty much the most dangerous demon still alive these days now that Lilith and her cronies are dead. We've tangled with her before - she chased our grandfather through a closet, actually - but ever since something pulled Adam out of Hell, she's been chasing us. She wants some kind of information from Adam. We don't know what, but she's tried to capture him a couple of times now, so she must want SOMETHING."

"And you think she'll torture Adam to get that information?"

He couldn't help it - Sam snorted. "Yeah." He said. "She's a demon. That's just what they do. And with all the recent crap with Hell and all that..."

"Say no more, Sam." Jody said. "I know." The raw understanding and support in her voice left a lump settled in Sam's throat.

"Thanks, Jody."

"No problem. It's the least I can do. Now scrolling through the reports. Here's what I found..."

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><p>"AAAAAA!" Despite himself, a ragged scream tore from his throat as Abaddon grabbed at his already bruised ribs with her sharp nails and <em>squeezed<em>, drawing blood.

"Where is Crowley?"

He could feel the demon's hot, sulphur-y breath on his neck. "G-go to hell." He slurred, gasping in pain as she dug her nails in some more.

"You're not making this any easier on yourself by holding out, you know." Abaddon purred, fisting a handful of his hair and yanking his head back enough to make his neck crunch painfully.

"You're a bitch."

"Stop playing hard to get, Adam. Now you're just talking dirty."

Adam choked as Abaddon dug her fingers into the fresh wound on his shoulder, twisting and scraping beneath the skin. Maybe she was reluctant to rough him up TOO much because she needed alive...but that just made her creative. His shredded shirt and stinging, bleeding skin was evidence of that.

Where in the hell were Sam and Dean anyway? Did they get lost on the way? Did Sam hit another dog or something? Or had they forgotten about him entirely? Adam didn't _want _to believe that Dean could have done that (and didn't _think _that Sam would have) but with the laughter of Michael and Lucifer ringing in his ears and mingling with the voice of Abaddon, he just didn't even know what to think._  
><em>

Any amusement he might have held for Abaddon's attempts at intimidating him had been burnt away by sleepless nights and no food and too many paring knifes taken to his skin. He was well and truly screwed if somebody didn't show up to help him soon. He could only hold the dark memories at bay for so long, after all...really he was lucky that he hadn't already gone absolutely batshit insane...and sooner or later he was going to end up dying from exhaustion or hunger or thirst, though he supposed he should be grateful that no food/water in his system meant no need to visit the bathroom.

Small comfort...

* * *

><p>After his phonecall to Jody, Sam took the Burger King receipt that he had scribbled the information she relayed on and headed back into the motel room...hoping that leaving Crowley and Dean alone together hadn't been the wrong decision.<p>

Fortunately, there was no carnage adding to the stains on the ceiling. Crowley was still in one piece.

In fact - both Crowley and Dean were sitting quietly and sulkily watching some documentary on the mating cycle of hummingbirds, Dean on the bed and Crowley still trapped on the dusty, musty sofa.

"Hey, dude, shut the door. It's freaking Arctic outside!"

Sam personally didn't feel it was all _that _cold, but he pulled the door shut anyway and went over to join his brother on the bed. "I talked to Jody." He said.

Crowley perked up.

Dean frowned. "What did she want?" He offered Sam a protein bar. S'mores flavoured.

"She didn't want anything. I called her and asked her to look up omens for us. Demon as powerful as Abaddon is sure to cause an electrical storm at least."

"True. Did she find anything?"

"Well there's a ghoul case over in Nebraska, from the sounds of it, and what is probably a wendigo in a Chicago suburb."

Dean blinked. "Well that's weird." He said.

"Yeah. Tell me about it." Sam took a bite of the bar and found that it was only half-stale. Maybe it hadn't been in the glove compartment very long? "But there weren't really any definite omens. There was a twister in Oklahoma the day Adam was taken, but that's pretty par-for-the-course this time of year what with all the hot and cold air colliding."

"Freaking cold nights in August. Definitely something supernatural about this weather." Dean muttered.

Sam shivered. He didn't like the cold...especially unusual cold. Ever since Lucifer, well, he wasn't a big fan of winter any-more. Still...it wasn't all that cold outside! Just a bit nippy if there was wind and you weren't wearing a shirt.

The lights flickered.

The TV went to snow.

A sudden crack of lightning outside was the only warning before the sky let loose with hail. Big hail. Goose egg size hail.

Oh _crap_. Just their luck!

"If the damn Plagues of Moses scratch my Baby, I'll dig up his friggan' corpse and kill him MYSELF!" Dean screeched, fumbling for a flashlight and falling off the bed in a tangle of salt cartridges and protein bar wrappers.

"I'm afraid that would be difficult, seeing as how he was buried on another continent by the Hand of God himself and his staff confiscated by the walking, talking Christmas ornaments." Crowley said calmly from where he was still lounging on the couch. "And this isn't the result of Moses' staff."

Just as suddenly as it began, the hail stopped and the lights came back on, flickering unsteadily but still giving light. The TV scritch-scratched its way through several channels before finally (and awkwardly) settling on Casa Erotica No. 13...the one Sam was pretty sure starred Gabriel as an Italian Violinist.

Dean glared at Crowley. "Was that you?" He demanded with the accusing air of a man asking his adversary if they had just farted.

Crowley looked affronted. "It was not!"

Choking on laughter (partially at the tone of voices they were using and partially because of Gabriel's HIDEOUS powdered wig) Sam fumbled for the remote and changed the channel to the news.

The lights flickered again and Dean shot a black look at Crowley who all but stuck his tongue out in response. Sam rolled his eyes.

* * *

><p><em>Once upon a time...once upon a time...you're fine...you're good...you're out...once upon a time...it's just a bit of hot metal...once upon a time...<em>

Abaddon waved away the steam from the hot knife she held and gripped Adam's hair. "Are you ready to talk?" She asked, clearly losing her patience.

Adam was trying very hard not to throw up. Damn but that hurt! He could practically _smell _his flesh burning where she had simultaneously cut and cauterised the wounds.

That took him back...

_Once upon a time...once upon a time...once upon a time there were three brothers...Lucifer's laughing at me...pain...pain...PAIN...once upon a time..._

"You know, boy, I don't understand why you're so loyal to a backstabbing worm like Crowley." Abaddon said conversationally, putting the knife back onto the portable kerosene burner to reheat. "You do realise that, were your situations reversed, he would sell you out in a minute."

"D-do you think I...I don't know that?" Adam rasped, trying to concentrate on the pain and let it ground him. It was getting harder and harder.

"Then why are you protecting him? I'm going to kill you sooner or later, so why prolong your pain? Haven't you suffered enough."

Adam grinned, feeling his dry lips crack as he did so. "You're not going to kill me."

"No?"

"No. I'm your only hope of finding out where Crowley is. S-Sam and Dean will never squeal if you worked them over and you know th-that if you take one of them...it'll be the last thing you d-do. They always come after each other."

"But not after you?" Adam shuddered as Abaddon whispered into his ear. He felt feverish and she was not helping matters any. "Poor little Adam...they won't come after you." The she-demon circled Adam for a moment, dragging a nail over his aching chest in a move that - were it anyone else - would have been seductive. It made his skin crawl. "Oh, I see." She breathed after a moment. "You think you're protecting _them_. The half-brothers who left you to burn in Hell for centuries, you're actually trying to protect them! Well if that isn't the funniest thing I've ever heard since Josie begging me to take her instead of her little boyfriend, Henry!"

Adam didn't know what any of that meant (nor who Josie and Henry were) but he didn't much care. He was eyeing the knife blade that, as it heated, began to faintly glow red. That was going to _hurt _whenever Abaddon got around to cutting again.

* * *

><p>"How long does it take for a Hellhound to sniff out a bad as big as Abaddon?"<p>

Dean was cleaning the guns (again) as the television droned and sputtered in the corner and, every so often, the lights flickered...making him glare suspiciously at an irritated and sulking Crowley. Sam could feel the dull throb of a stress migraine building behind his eyes. He had been on some awkward road trips before (nothing said awkward so much as John Winchester singing along to Dolly Parton complete with backing vocals) but this was worse than that one trip with Meg and Cas and Kevin. At least then there had been no one missing and Dean wasn't actively looking for an excuse to put a knife in someone's jugular.

He needed a drink. They all needed a drink. They needed to get Adam back and then all go get utterly smashed.

Usually Sam would have done everything possible to convince Dean to cut back on his alcohol intake (Cas would only be around so long to heal his liver, after all) but in this instance Sam couldn't deny that drinking themselves into a stupor sounded mightily tempting.

Smoke on the Water sounded out and Dean leaped for his phone. "Kevin?" Sam leaned in and Dean held the phone so they could both listen. "What you got for us, Kev?"

"Not a whole lot." Kevin sounded as exhausted as Sam figured they would probably feel without the adrenaline. "There was a whole sub section on the Tablet about Knights of Hell...but it was more descriptions of them and of how they were made (which, by the way, ew!) than how to kill them."

Dean slumped and ran a hand over his face. "So there's nothing?"

"I didn't say that." There was a rustle of papers and the sound of a mug breaking. "Dammit. You still there?"

"Yes, Kevin. Pop an upper and give us the dirt, already!"

"Okay, so I went through all of my notes and double-checked them all with the Tablet itself, just to be sure. Knights of Hell are some of the most powerful demons in existence, second only to Fallen Angels or Nephilim and Elder Demons. There's a whole freaky hierarchy for ranking too, but Knights are right up there at the top."

"Right. We kind of got that. How do we kill one?"

Kevin sighed. "I don't know that you can, Dean. The Tablet's not super clear and a better translation could take me days - "

"Well we don't have days. So cut through the crap and tell us what you _do _have."

Sam poked Dean in the leg and gave him a 'play nice!' look.

"There's basically only two ways mentioned to kill a Knight of Hell. The first is by using something called 'The First Blade'...I think it was a weapon used by the first Knight to keep all the others in line or something? I dunno. God dictates like freaking Yoda and Metatron has terrible handwriting."

"Focus, Kevin."

"There's not a whole lot else to tell. That seemed to be the only sure-fire way to kill a Knight, though there was a footnote that mentioned using an angel blade dipped in holy oil to carve a crucifix into the Knight's chest. I don't know, though. That seems like a long shot."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, it is." He said, looking at Sam. "But right now we don't have access to this First Blade - " Crowley's head snapped up and he was suddenly on the alert, " - so we'll have to make do. Think we have an angel blade in the trunk."

"Just, don't get killed?" Kevin said.

"No promises, but we'll try. You did good, kid. Go have a drink on us, okay?"

* * *

><p>"So, I must say, Adam. I am confused. You could save yourself all this pain if you'd just stop resisting and talk to me."<p>

Adam grinned painfully, feeling blood drip down his chin. "Guess I'm just st-stubborn."

"It could all be over if you would just tell me where Crowley is."

"You know, lady, you'd better stick with the b-brute force. Your d-diplomacy skills _suck_."

The demon's eyes narrowed dangerously and Adam tense, expecting a new onslaught of pain. But it never came.

Instead, Abaddon tipped her head to one side and looked at him like he was a particularly interesting paramecium under her microscope. "You are such an unusual human." She said. "I mean, you are a Vessel and that makes you infinitely fascinating to pull apart, but you are also surprisingly loyal to those who have done nothing to deserve it. Do you think that your brothers will reward you for holding out on me? That is, assuming that they even come for you..."

"They did before."

Abaddon shook her head. "We were sloppy before." She said pityingly. "I didn't know then that you boys had information on Crowley. Now we are hidden behind so many spells and wards that not even the angel riding inside your brother could find us. Not that they'll be looking. You're expendable." She laughed as Adam glared at her and sauntered over to the red-hot, glowing, freshly-heated blade. "Now tell me where Crowley is."

As the blade pressed against his back, Adam closed his eyes and gave in to the fire and darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Just want to say a BIG THANK YOU to everyone who has been following this story and giving me feedback and all. I may joke about how reviews are water for Adam or pie for Dean (or salads for Sam) but I really do appreciate them. So thank you, thank you! You guys are the reason I'm still writing this because, if nobody's reading and enjoying it, there's no point in uploading it. Thank you. :)<strong>


	59. Cain, Abel, Seth

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><p>"You mean to tell me that we've been sitting around on our asses whenever Adam was right here in this VERY CITY?"<p>

Crowley shrugged and patted Juliet's head approvingly. "You heard me, Not-Moose." He said. Juliet panted and let her tongue loll out (dribbling steaming drool onto Crowley's lap) as she stared up into his eyes with something that looked uncomfortably like adoration.

Dean snarled and started throwing their assorted weapons back into the bad, punctuated by a round of curses that would have a sailor blushing. Now that they thought about it, that made sense. There HAD been some freaky weather and electrical problems, after all. Sam was kicking himself for not making the connection sooner.

"Stow your crap, Dean." He said, heading for the door. "Let's go get Adam."

The brothers were halfway out the door whenever there was a pitiful whine from Juliet. "What about _me_?" Crowley asked.

Sam shot the devil's trap over his shoulder, breaking the line. "Come on, Crowley." He said shortly. "Hurry up."

"And NO DOG IN THE CAR!" Dean called.

* * *

><p>Dean growled and white-knuckled the wheel as a couple of rednecks blew by them in a rusted convertible and blared the horn. He was <em>not <em>in the mood to deal with people cutting him off whenever he was trying to put the pedal to the metal.

"Sam, do we have any holy oil left in the trunk?"

"Yeah. There's a bit left from the last jug."

"Enough to coat the angel blade?"

Sam nodded. "There should be."

"Good." Dean's voice was terse. "Because I want to be the one to carve the crucifix into that bitch's chest and I want it to stick. OH DAMN YOU, YOU PRISSY WHACKERS!" He yelled at the posh Prius filled with polo-wearing teenagers that had just swerved in front of them. The sky boiled and threatened rain.

"Dean!" Sam snapped. "Calm down...we're not going to do Adam much good if we start a multi-car pile-up!"

Dean felt that Sam was rather a hypocrite, seeing as how _he _was white-knuckling the dash with one hand and gnawing furiously on an already-bloody hangnail with the other. Just to make matters worse, Crowley (freaking Crowley) was still in the backseat. Why had they brought him along again?

They just needed to get across this city bypass to the east side of town. Juliet the Over-affectionate Hellhound would meet them and take them to where Adam and Abaddon were holed up.

"So you really think the carved crucifix will work?"

"She's a demon, Sam." Dean said. "And even if it doesn't work...it should incapacitate her for a while, right? It is the sign of the cross."

Crowley harrumphed from the backseat. "You'd better hope that it does." He said darkly.

"Yes, thank you for your input." Sam said, cutting him off.

Dean stepped on the gas and swerved between two Walmart semi's and into the fast traffic lane, plastering Crowley against the side of the car with the force of the turn and making Sam cling to his door handle to avoid the same fate. They were clipping down the four-lane at around 90 miles per hour...and woe to the soul who tried to pull them over.

"Keep an eye out for the 17th Street exit, Sammy."

They drove on for a while, Dean keeping a wary eye on the traffic and Sam attentively eyeing each sign and watching for red and blue flashing lights. The last thing they needed was to be pulled over. Aside from the very real danger of being recognised and having a whole new manhunt out after them due to some cold case buff looking them up on the database, there was also the fact that they had an unshaven man in handcuffs and a heavy, wrought-iron collar locked around his neck in the backseat.

_That _would definitely raise a few official eyebrows, and neither Sam nor Dean had any way of predicting how Crowley would handle a situation like that. Would he pass it off as a joke about fetishes and save their bacon while forever embarrassing them? Or would he use it as a bid for freedom and whine and sob about his 'satanic' kidnappers (something that was all manner of darkly hilarious) and get them arrested so he could skip off and do as he pleased?

There was really no way of telling, so both hunters wished very much to avoid being pulled over as they burnt rubber on their way to save their little brother.

"So, that was some interesting stuff my little buddy Kevin had to say." Crowley spoke up in a casual, conversational tone.

Sam clenched his fist. "I don't think Kevin wants your BFF bracelet." He said coldly, thinking of missing fingers and murdered mothers...and his own missing brother that he wanted to worry about without the King of Hell polluting the air.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Such a drama queen." He sniffed, waving it off as best he could in his handcuffs. "But I must say I am quite intrigued by what he had to say. Do you know that whenever I was just a wee demon, we were taught about ol' Cain in demon sunday school?"

Dean snorted. "Didn't think that was actually a thing. I figured it was just Alistair being sarcastically blasphemous, as usual."

"You were a special case." Crowley said. "Most souls are stripped bare and then sent right off to sunday school where they are re-educated and re-shaped into the children of Satan. We're taught stories of Cain and Haman and Judas...you don't know what you missed out on."

"I'll pass, thanks." Dean said. "Just out of morbid curiosity, though, what were you taught about Cain?"

Sam glared at him for encouraging Crowley and he gave a helpless shrug. Maybe this would burn Crowley out and make him shut up?

Crowley didn't seem to notice their silent communication, but instantly launched into Hell's interpretation of the story of Cain and Abel.

* * *

><p>"...Cain is an idol to many of the demons. He was hand-picked by Lucifer for corruption and, after he died, he was taken and appropriately trained by Lilith and by Lucifer himself to be the First Knight. They say that the Mark branded into his soul by God was twisted too, becoming an object of powerful magic that connected him to the First Blade."<p>

"So the First Blade was a weapon fashioned for Cain in honour of the way he killed Abel?" Sam couldn't help himself and had become somewhat interested in the information Crowley was spewing forth.

"That is what the story says." The demon was quick to hedge. "Nobody has seen Cain for centuries. Certainly never in my time. But, seeing as how he was the first and top Knight, I would say that blade would be a more certain way to kill Abaddon than attempting to keep her still long enough to clip her claws and carve something into her chest. Something that you don't even know if it will work or not. I heard a rumour of a place where Cain may have left a trail to where he has secluded himself. Perhaps we could - "

"Nuh-uh." Dean shook his head firmly. "No way am I detouring out to some demonic hobo's cabin in the middle of nowhere to get some ugly-ass magic tattoo on my forearm like I'm a double-damned Death Eater, just so we can go hunting for an ancient blade, wasting even more time while Abaddon is torturing my brother. So you can just take your ideas about that and shove 'em up your ass!"

"Well it wouldn't have to be _you_, Squirrel." Crowley said. "Moose could be considered eligible in a pinch...though he's really more of an Abel than a Cain."

"Meaning?"

"If you'd just take this bloody collar off, I could take Moose and pop over to where the original murderer is rumoured to maybe be and - "

"No."

"Why not?"

Dean glared into the rearview mirror. "Because Sammy's not going off with you on some wild goose chase and I'm not taking your collar off until we have Adam back safe and sound. So shut the hell up."

"Why don't you let Moose speak for himself?"

Sam huffed air through his nose in irritation. "The answer is still no, Crowley." He said. "Even if those rumours about Cain _are _true, this is not the time to be poking a nest of bees. So stop harping on it."

The demon shrugged. "Your loss." He said. "Don't come crying to me whenever Abaddon roasts your livers and feeds them to you."

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><p><strong>Read &amp; Review! :)<strong>


	60. Long Live The King?

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><p>Dean threw his shoulder into the door of the house Juliet had shown them. It fell open with a crash and left him tumbling in, rolling to his feet and looking around wildly to spot Abaddon. Sam and Crowley were right behind him, Sam instantly jumping over Dean and running to where Adam was strung up, hanging limply and covered in blood.<p>

"Oh my God."

"Hey, Adam? Can you hear me?" Gently, Sam took hold of Adam's shoulders and shook him, drawing out a pained groan from his battered little brother. "That's it." Sam coaxed, putting one hand on Adam's face and frowning at the heat he felt there. "C'mon, Adam. Open your eyes."

"Scarlet Johannson is wandering around in a bikini!" Dean chimed in, trying to jimmy the locks on the manacles that were cutting into Adam's wrists.

Sam didn't even spare him a bitchface, instead patting Adam's scratched cheek as hard as he could, trying to bring Adam back to consciousness the same way Dean had always done for him. (Hey...if it worked for Dean then it should work now!) "Adam?"

"Almost got these damn cuffs open." Dean said. "If he's not awake by then, we'll just have to carry him. Shouldn't be too hard."

Adam groaned and his eyes opened just a slit. Sam went down like a felled oak as all the muscles in Adam's shoulders tensed as he hauled himself out and kicked out with both feet, catching Sam in the gut.

"Dammit!" Dean shouted, catching Adam in a bear hug and holding him tightly as he struggled wildly. "Dude, calm down!"

"Stay th'hell away fromme!" Adam slurred, trying to headbutt Dean. "Leaveme 'lone!"

"Let go of him." Sam wheezed from the floor.

"BASTARDS!" Adam rasped. Dean had the terrible thought that it _would _have been a scream if Adam's voice wasn't already torn to shreds by previous screams and pleas. Why hadn't they gotten to him sooner?!

"Let go of him, Dean."

With a scowl, Dean did as Sam requested and got out of the range of Adam's legs so he could finish opening up the shackles. Abaddon hadn't used rope this time...these were genuine steel manacles with thick, heavy chains secured to the crossbeams of the room. Damn.

"Breath, Adam." Sam was saying as he picked himself back up off the floor and approached their little brother the way someone would approach a spooked animal. "Just try to calm down. We're trying to get you out."

Adam's breathing was ragged and his eyes weren't really focusing on anything, pupils blown wide and terrified. Sam looked at Dean who nodded grimly. As the lock on the last shackle clicked open, Sam surged forward and grabbed Adam in a tight embrace, trapping his arms against his body and pinning his legs in place. Dean got an arm around Adam's throat from the back and squeezed gently but tightly, effectively putting Adam into the sleeper hold. They counted carefully and within five seconds, Adam went limp.

"Okay." Dean said softly, letting Adam slump against Sam and rubbing his forearm where Adam had attempted to bite him. "You carry the kid, Crowley and I'll keep an eye out for that bi - "

"Were you boys talking about me?"

Dean never got to finish his sentence. Abaddon stepped into the living room and flicked her fingers, sending the brothers and Crowley flying into a wall. Sam grabbed Adam and twisted around so that he shielded the unconscious young man from the impact.

"You BITCH!" Dean shouted, getting unsteadily to his feet and checking to see if the angel blade was still in its holster.

It wasn't.

Abaddon laughed darkly. "Such dirty mouths you all have!" She scolded. "I should just peel off those silly tattoos you're sporting and besmirch them a bit more." She strode over to where Crowley was and kicked him in the ribs. "Hello, _your Highness_." She said mockingly.

"Hello, Abaddon." The demon said with a smile. "Fancy meeting you here."

"So you've finally decided to crawl out of the woodwork like the louse that you are?" Abaddon reached down and took hold of the chain attached to his collar, hauling him up to his feet and slamming him against the wall. "Nice leash, your majesty. I think we need to discuss a regime change."

Crowley squirmed. "Oh?"

"Yes." Abaddon waved a hand and pinned Sam and Dean in place absently. "How does a slimy little crossroads demon like you end up as King of Hell?"

"I don't kill off my support?"

"You have no spine, you mean."

"Oh yeah?" Abaddon shrieked in pain and fell back from Crowley, a wound on her stomach sparking as the King of Hell pulled the angel blade back out. "Say that to my face!" He snarled.

Freed from Abaddon's grip, Sam and Dean separated. Dean leaped for Abaddon and Crowley while Sam crawled over to check on Adam. Mercifully, the youngest Winchester was still out cold.

Dean barrelled into Crowley and Abaddon, knocking Abaddon's head into the baseboard and grabbing Crowley in a wristlock. "Give me the blade!" He shouted. "Dammit, Crowley, give it to me!"

His head jerked back as Abaddon, screeching in anger, grabbed his hair and face with her sharp nails and held on like a cat.

Crowley kicked Dean between the legs and rolled out of the way as he fell, Abaddon on top of him. "You bastard!" The Knight of Hell screamed, wrapping her hands around Dean's throat and _squeezing_. "How dare you...how _dare _you defy me, you snivelling worm!"

Dean choked, grasping at her fingers and trying to pry them away from his neck...trying to breath with her kneeling on his chest.

It all happened so fast. Sam was just about to leave Adam and go help whenever Crowley tackled Abaddon to the ground and pinned her, plunging the angel blade deep into her chest and ripping it through bone and muscle has he carved.

Abaddon howled in pain and struggled madly. "Give me a hand, Dean!" Crowley yelled.

Throbbing in places he'd rather not mention just then, Dean stumbled over and grabbed Abaddon's arms, kneeling on them to hold them down while Crowley - with more skill and practice than Dean cared to think about - cut a perfect cross into the Knight of Hell's chest.

She screamed, body thrashing wildly as if she was having a seizure and Crowley and Dean both fell backwards as red-hot sparks shot out of her wounds and her eyes. "You...you don't know...what you've done!" The Knight hissed before she exploded in a burst of static and inky black smoke.

Abaddon was dead.

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><p>"Well done there, boys." Crowley said at last as they all lay on the floor, panting and trying to catch their breath.<p>

The corpse of Abaddon's meatsuit lay on the floor, smoky goo leaking out of one ear.

"Holy..." Dean said, finding his voice at last. "Did that just, I mean...is she dead?"

"As a doornail." Crowley collected the blade and wiped it off on her pants.

"Ah, ah." Sam held out a hand as Crowley went to put the blade into his coat. "Hand it over."

The demon pouted, but dutifully handed over the blade and watched Sam put it in his belt alongside Ruby's knife. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Give me a hand, Dean." Sam said, grunting as he struggled to pull Adam's deadweight up. "God, you really put him under, didn't you?"

"The kid was going full-on nuts." Dean protested, putting an arm under Adam's legs and heaving. "What did you want me to do?"

Crowley held the door open for them as they carried their brother out of the house, down the sidewalk, and got him laid out in the backseat and covered with a blanket. They needed to get to someplace where they could check those injuries!

"Well then, boys. If you'll just pop off the old collar, I'll be on my way. I have a kingdom to fix up."

Sam slammed the Impala door shut with a dark look on his face. "I don't think so." He said coldly, exchanging a look with Dean who nodded.

Crowley backed up against the wall of the house and looked between Sam and Dean suspiciously. "I - I helped you!" The King of Hell protested. "We just shared a foxhole together! Stormed the beaches of Normandy! What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh I don't know." Dean said, arms crossed unfeelingly, "Maybe ridding the world of an evil, slimey cockroach of a politician?"

"That hurts, Squirrel." Crowley said, actually looking rather upset. "And here I thought we really had something..." Sam was not moved, and neither was Dean. Crowley looked from one impassive face to the other and smiled nervously. "Now, boys. Is this any way to behave? And after _all _I've done for you throughout the years too!"

"All you've done for us?" Sam snorted. "Please. Do you mean screwing Bobby over? Or killing Sarah and Meg? Not to mention Kevin's mother."

"Dear Mrs. Tran? Oh. I haven't done anything for her. She's snug as a bug in a rug and very much alive, I assure you."

"Okay. So you didn't kill her." Dean said. "But that doesn't take away the fact that you killed Tommy and Sarah and all the other people we saved throughout the years."

Crowley smirked. "Och, did wee Sarah strike a chord wi' ye, Sam?" He asked, letting a brogue bleed through into his speech roguishly. Sam growled and started forward and, eyes widening as he realised he had made a crucial mistake, Crowley held up both hands. "Easy there, Moose!" He said hurriedly. "I didn't mean anything by it. Just good old-fashioned jesting between friends, that's what it was."

"You are not my friend." Sam said, nostrils flaring and breathing very hard. "You are not even _close _to a friend. So don't you give me that load of utter crap about 'jesting' or whatever the hell you want to call it." He shifted the demon blade in his hand and Crowley's eyes fixed on the ready-to-strike hold and a look of wild panic entered them.

"Now, Moose..." He said. "Let's not be doing anything we'll regret later. We haven't agreed on a safe word yet."

"Shut up."

"Moose...Sam. You promised you would let me go. Are you going to tell me that you lied to me after all we've been through together?"

Sam shook his head. "No. I never lied to you, Crowley. I promised to set you free." In one smooth motion, he drove the blade into Crowley's heart. "This is me setting you free."

Crowley stared up at Sam with a face that was angry and shocked and maybe even a little bit betrayed. "You bastard." The demon gasped as he sparked inside his meatsuit. "You clever bastard."

Sam yanked the knife out with a jerk. Crowley was dead.

"Come on." Sam said, walking past Dean. "Let's get out of here."

The brothers went back to the Impala and got in, checking to see that Adam was still sleeping in the back-seat. A chilling snarl sounded through the air and Dean fumbled for his glasses, looking back at the side of the house where they had left Crowley.

Juliet crouched over his body, nudging him gently with her scarred muzzle and whimpering. When Crowley didn't move, she flung back her head and let out a piercing howl before turning and glaring straight at the brothers.

Dean felt a shiver go up his spine and he stepped on the gas.

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><p><strong>Please read &amp; review! :)<strong>


	61. Meanwhile In The Impala

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><p>"Is he still asleep?"<p>

Sam glanced over the back of the seat at the limp form of Adam. "Yeah. He's still out like a light."

"Good." It was raining now and Dean glared at a leaf that the wipers were smearing back and forth right in his line of vision. "So...are we going to talk about what just happened?"

He was favoured with an innocent eyebrow raise from Sam. "Meaning?"

"The way you stabbed Crowley, man! I mean, I wanted that douchebag dead as much as you did...but he did help us."

"And?" Sam stared at Dean uncomprehendingly. "Ruby helped us too, Dean. And look where that got us!"

"Yeah, well, you weren't planning on screwing Crowley were you?"

"NO!"

Dean gave a theatrical shudder of relief. "Thank God."

"You're disgusting." Sam glared at his brother. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"No puking in my car. And don't think that gets you off the hook for explaining why you just went Ghostface on Crowley's ass.

Sam shrugged. "I would have thought that would be obvious." He said. "Thought you were with me on that one."

"I am. I wanted to stick him myself, you know I did. I'm just surprised that Mr. 'He may yet be useful' decided to pull a double one like that." Dean grinned. "Not that I'm complaining he's dead."

"Well good. We've had too many times where we let someone go and they screwed us over." Sam sighed. "I'm just tired of it all."

From the backseat, Adam shifted and mumbled uneasily. Sam glanced back to check and make sure he was still asleep and Dean chuckled softly. "Hey, man...you ever miss the days whenever we were just hunting wendigos and poltergeists?"

"Is the sky blue?" Sam snorted, turning back around and rubbing his neck. "Sometimes I wish I had listened whenever Dad told me to shoot him, y'know?"

Though it hurt, Dean did know what Sam meant. So many of their problems had been caused by being too quick to trust and too slow to act. Maybe if he had shot Ruby in the heart she couldn't have gotten her hooks into Sam. "Well, let's just get the kid home and in bed. Then we'll try and figure out what to do about Metatron so maybe we can finally be done with all this Apocalypse Mark 70 crap and retire."

"Retire?!"

"Don't sound so scandalised, sparky. You've been trying to get out for ages."

That earned him an incredulous look from Sam. "Where have you been for the past eight years?" Sam demanded, looking just a tiny bit shocked.

Dean tried to think back over what he had said to see if he could spot where he had screwed up, but he couldn't find anything. "What?"

"Dean...I haven't been chasing the apple pie life for years. Not since Dad died."

"What?"

Sam shrugged. "It just seemed kind of pointless. You never get out of this life unless it's in a body bag, so why even try?"

"But Amelia - "

"Was there whenever I needed something to hang on to, that was all. She was nice, Dean, but she wasn't you and deep down I always knew that life wouldn't last. It never does." Sam laughed softly, bitterly. "I guess I should just be grateful that you came back before I could get her killed the way I seem to do everybody else."

Dean drove silently for a moment, mulling over what Sam had said. He remembered, years and years ago after they killed the Yellow Eyed Demon, Sam saying that he wasn't going back to school and had no intentions of doing so...but Dean had just figured that it was because Sam and his bleeding heart was gearing up to spend a year working himself to death to break that damn deal, not because Sam had given up on that entirely. "You mean you don't - "

"Yeah, Dean. Amelia...she was nice. And after all that happened it was nice to stop and catch my breath for a little bit of time, but that's just not me. I'm a hunter and we both know how that life ends."

"Not for you." Dean said. "Not if I have anything to say about it. If one of us makes it out of this mess, it's going to be you, Sam. I won't have it any other way."

"I know."

Dean didn't have to be psychic to know that Sam was thinking about Gadreel. "Don't go there, Sammy. What's past is past and I fully intend on sticking an freshly-sharpened angel blade up that dick's anus if he ever messes with you again, so stop brooding over it, Mr. Emo."

Sam huffed out a rueful snort. "Well I'm not letting you die either, Dean, so ditto to all of that."

"God." Dean muttered, reaching for the radio dial and turning it on (with the sound down so as to not wake Adam) "There's way too much estrogen in this car right now."

"You started it, jerk."

* * *

><p>Home at last.<p>

Dean climbed out of the Impala and stretched, groaning as each of his vertebrae slid back into place with a satisfying string of pops. Twenty odd years of being thrown into walls by vengeful spirits (and all other manner of fuglies) came as part of the job description, but it had also left Dean with a back that ached after car rides of more than four hours and knees that could foretell the weather better than Bobby's bum elbow ever could. Damn it all! He was only 34! He was too young for this!

While Dean was experiencing his miniature midlife crisis, Sam crawled into the backseat and tried to rouse Adam.

Adam did respond to his attempts...by burrowing deeper into the stolen hospital blanket and swatting at Sam as if his elder brother was a particularly irritating fly. "Leave m'lone."

Sam supposed he should be grateful that they weren't having a repeat of Freakout 101, but they needed to get Adam inside. And the garage was locked, so they would have to go through the front door, down the stairs, and through the library before they even got close to his room.

And that was a long way.

And Adam wasn't exactly light to carry.

Though he was certainly not quite as heavy as Dean.

But he was deadweight at the moment. Floppy, uncooperative deadweight.

Dammit.

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	62. The Blame Game

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><p><strong>5th Day of Newmoon, Oz, Faerie<strong>

**Finally have access to a calendar again, so I can give you peeps the date. Things are pretty quiet tonight, but tomorrow is going to be INSANE! They're having the coronation for the new queen of Oz. Glinda (who is not a witch but a powerful fairy) will be taking the throne as she is the fourth cousin of Morgaine, Queen of Avalon. It's all so exciting!**

**Dorothy winked at me last night and said that I could have been queen if Oz was a democracy...I told her in no uncertain terms that I was very much flattered, but I already have a kingdom to run. Moondoor is love, Moondoor is life.**

**I really hope I can be back for the Yuletide Festival. You had BETTER come, loyal handmaidens!**

**Anyway, it's getting late and I'm going to break my jaw yawning, so I'd better head to bed and try to get some sleep.**

**Love you loads, should be home soon!**

**XOXO (a hug and a kiss for you both)**

**Charlie**

* * *

><p>"SAM! SAAAAAM!"<p>

Sam jolted awake and jumped to his feet from his bedroll to check on Adam who was thrashing wildly. "Hey, Adam. You're dreaming. Wake up."

"No, nonono...leave me 'lone! Please!"

"Adam!"

"You know, you can move out, Sam."

"What?"

Adam leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes. "Much as I love this late-night canoodling and all that, it's really not necessary. And I'm tired of tripping over your goliath legs every time I have to use the bathroom."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. So you can totally go back to your own room. I'm fine."

"Well the fact that you just puked into Dean's favourite sauce pan says otherwise."

That earned Sam a tired glare from Adam. "If you had to listen to yourself snoring every night before going to bed, you'd have nightmares too. You sound like a tribe of grasshoppers having a fiddling contest with cicadas."

"I think you've gotten me mixed up with Dean." Sam said.

Adam rolled his eyes and shut them again with a grimace, the motion making him look rather green as he swallowed. "No. I meant you. Not that I don't _appreciate _your desire to have an ongoing slumber party," The sarcasm was tangible and cutting, "But I am fine and I would be a whole lot more fine if I wasn't having to convince myself every night that it's you lurking in the dark and that we're in a safe room instead of...the other place."

"Do you really think it would help you sleep better, Adam?"

"Well it certainly would be easier on my ears and your back."

Sam gave him a look and Adam growled. "Okay, fine, you want to know the truth about how I'm doing? Here it is - I feel dizzy and nauseous half the time and sometimes I have a hard time telling what's real and what isn't...but you're not helping me any by sleeping in here."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I spent several hundred years listening to you breath in the rare times we were left alone to try and sleep a bit. Lying in the dark and hearing you breathing over there is seriously screwing with me. Okay?"

Sam stared at Adam (or what little he could see in the dim glow of the nightlight), shocked that he was being so frank. Lately they hadn't really gotten much out of Adam aside from either flashback-induced pleas to leave him alone or downright profane insults designed to drive them away. It seemed like for every minute that Adam spent clinging to one of them (usually Sam) as his mind tortured him, he felt he had to make it up with two minutes of downright spiteful prickliness. Sam could understand that. He and Dean weren't exactly big on the whole mushy-gushy feelings themselves. The Winchester motto was suck it up and deal - preferably with a side of alcohol - and so maybe they weren't the best people to help Adam through his breakdown...

...but, then again, they were currently the only other people to have survived Hell without turning into black smoke, so they were more than qualified to deal with the mood swings and nightmares.

God they were all a mess!

* * *

><p>"Adam?" Dean knocked on Adam's door and poked his head in. "Hey, dude...you decent?"<p>

"Well at least you asked this time, jerk." The toilet flushed and Adam came out, wiping his mouth.

Dean frowned...he looked kind of pale and wobbly. "You okay?"

Adam glared. "Why does everyone keep on asking me that?!" He complained, straightening up. "Yes! I. Am. Fine!"

A sniff of the air as he got closer to his brother confirmed his suspicions...Adam had thrown up again. Dean sighed. This was getting to be a real problem. Guess he would have to go back to cooking vegan again. Sam would be ecstatic, though maybe not about the reason for the change. "So. Heard you kicked Sammy out."

A shrug from Adam. "Don't really see what the point of him sleeping in here was in the first place."

Dean gave him a look. "I thought we discussed this."

"_You _may have discussed this, but I didn't know I was having a roommate until Sam plunked himself down and proceeded to snore loud enough to wake the dead."

Dean stifled a snort. "Adam, you know your eggs are kind of scrambled. After He - "

"Don't." Adam gritted his teeth. "Don't say it. I don't want to hear it. I'm fine."

"Uh-huh. That's why you're still not sleeping through the night or eating burgers whenever I make 'em?"

Going an interesting combination of green and red (that clashed with the dark, purple circles under his eyes and made him the picture of sickly) Adam shoved past Dean angrily. "You know what, Dean? Screw you! It was your fault I ended up in there in the first place anyway."

Dean flinched. "What?!"

"I screamed for you, Dean." Adam said, pacing back and forth agitatedly. "I _begged _you not to leave me in that room with Michael. But you did."

"Adam, I - "

"Stuff it!" Adam snapped. "I don't want your damn pity! You try going through a couple of centuries in...in downstairs with two archangels taking out their anger on you (because, y'know, they weren't exactly overjoyed that Death showed up and got Sam for you)..." A bit of blood came out of his nose and he staggered mid-turn, "Yeah, Dean, don't you talk to me about 'family'. What a load of crap!" He swiped angrily at the blood on his upper lip and, shooting Dean one last poisonous look, all but ran from the room.

Dean snatched up his cellphone and rang Sam who had been down cleaning shotgun shells from the shooting range. "Beautiful Mind is coming your way. Interception needed."

"For God's sake, Dean, what happened?"

"We were having a discussion about the broken mirror in the bathroom and I may have...pushed a bit too hard."

"Damn."

"Yeah. My thoughts exactly. Kid had a nosebleed whenever he staggered out him. Looks like we might be headed for yet another round of the Linda Blair routine."

Sam swore and (judging by the sounds) threw a handful of shells rather violently into the trash. "Okay, Dean. I'll go find him. You stand by in case I need help."

"Don't exactly think I'm his favourite person right now."

"I'll try to talk him around. Let's just hope he isn't having a seizure."

Dean wondered if maybe they should see about robbing a pharmacy for some seizure meds...but he feared anything that messed with the chemicals in Adam's brain. Poor kid was scrambled enough as it was. "Yeah. Yell or shoot me a text whenever you find him. I'm going to be in the kitchen."

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	63. Calling All Angels

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><p>Dean poked his head into the fridge gloomily, pondering what he could make for lunch. Well there was some of the italian chicken dish he had made last night, maybe they could use that (if the red of the sauce didn't set Adam off) and, failing that, there was always the option of a Breakfast-Lunch Thingy. He had a thing of pre-fab cinnamon rolls in the freezer that he had been dying to use for a while...<p>

There was a crash and some swearing and Sam limped into the kitchen, rubbing his foot. "Dean! Why the hell is there a box full of gauntlets in the hallway?!"

_Oops_. "Sorry, Sammy. Found those in one of the archive rooms whenever I was trying to find room for Bobby's Toadstool Encyclopaedia collection. Why did he have that again?"

"Hell if I know." Sam snorted. "But it wasn't like Bobby hoarded books or anything..."

"Are you kidding me? The man had duplicates for every rare book and manuscript that ever passed through his house. And if there weren't duplicates available, he made them himself. He was like...I dunno...a redneck Giles?"

"Yeah. Good old Bobby."

The brothers were silent for a while, thinking back to simpler times and fond memories whenever the solution to their problems was just one phonecall away and someone was looking after them instead of the other way around.

"Anyway!" Dean said, shaking himself out of his reverie. "Any ideas on what we can have for lunch?"

* * *

><p>"Okay, Adam. Shirt off."<p>

Adam looked up from his vintage Dick Tracy comic book and frowned at Sam. "You know, I usually tell people to buy me dinner first."

Sam made a face. "Not the time, dude." He said. "Now do you want me to take care of your back or just leave everything to get infected again?"

"Hmmph." Adam sniffed in a rather put-upon way, but obligingly unbuttoned his plaid purple shirt and pulled his teeshirt up over his head. "Okay, doc. Do your worst."

As gently as he could, Sam peeled off the bandages and worked on inspecting the different cuts and gashes that still decorated Adam's torso. Adam hissed in pain once or twice, but for the most part sat still and unresponsive...and tense as a wound spring. "Dude." Sam said at last, checking the long slash near Adam's spine that had required stitches. "Relax, would you?"

"I _am._" Adam replied tersely through clenched teeth. "As relaxed as I can be with your freezing cold mitts feeling up my injuries, thank you very much."

Fair enough. Though, given the recent resurgence in flashbacks and other Hell baggage, Sam felt that he was justified in worrying. He wanted to help Adam, not set him off again.

Adam, for his part, seemed to be concentrating on holding himself still and on taking shallow, regulated breaths...something that _could _have been because of his still brilliantly bruised ribs, but was more likely because Sam was sitting behind him where he couldn't see.

Not that Sam would do anything to Adam...but Adam just had a _thing _about being touched without seeing it coming.

"Okay." Sam said at last, smearing a bit of antibiotic cream on one rather raw-looking place and applying a jumbo band-aid. "You're looking fine. I think we can try leaving the bandages off now."

"Oh thank God." Adam snarked, yanking his shirt back down with a grimace as the motion pulled at taut, sore skin.

Sam repacked the med kit carefully. "How're the knuckles?"

Adam shrugged. "Fine." He flexed them slowly. "Took the skin off, but hardly the worst thing to ever happen to me."

"You should be more careful. Punching walls and mirrors wreaks havoc on your joints, especially as you get older."

"Yeah, thanks, I'll remember that, Gramps." Adam smirked darkly.

"I'm being serious." Sam stuffed the rubbing alcohol back into the kit and crammed so that he could put on the lid. "Do you _want _a bunch of crooked, aching fingers?"

Adam shrugged again. "Not particularly...but it's not like I'll ever be a plastic surgeon now."

Sam paused in his attempts to latch the lid to stare at his brother. "You wanted to be a _plastic surgeon_?!"

"Uh-huh. But not one like the people who work on celebrity asses or anything like that, God no! One of the ladies Mom worked with for a couple of years was a plastic surgeon and she specialised in rebuilding people's faces after accidents or fires. So I thought I might want to do that." He shuffled over and flopped down to read his outdated comic again. "Not that that'll ever happen now."

What could Sam say to that?

"Five minutes until lunch is ready, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah."

* * *

><p>They were halfway through the mountainous stack of grilled cheese sandwiches that Dean had made whenever Dean's phone went off. "Son of a bitch!" He complained, spewing crumbs everywhere as he wiped his mouth and fished it out of his pocket. "Yeah?"<p>

"Dean. I am outside, but your door appears to be locked."

"Cas? What the hell are you doing here?"

The angel sounded a bit miffed. "Coming to see you. Is that so terrible?"

There was an odd choking noise from Sam and Dean realised belatedly that his phone was on speaker. "No. No problem at all." He said, glaring at Sam. "We just weren't expecting you. Aren't you supposed to be tracking down Metatron's followers or something?"

"Yes."

Dean sighed. "I'll let you in. Just gimme a sec."

"There is a female in the car," (cue more choking sounds from Sam), "And it is beginning to rain."

"Crap." So much for the farmer's market trip, then. Not that Dean would EVER admit it to Sam...but he had developed a bit of a fondness for perusing through bake sales and markets, swapping recipes with the farmer gals and housewives and seeing what kind of speciality jams were available. But if it was raining, then no market within a twenty mile radius would still be open. Damn. Then what Castiel had said finally registered... "Wait. A _female_?! You brought your girlfriend here?!"

That made even Adam look up from where he had been savagely mutilating his third sandwich with a fork. _"A female?"_ He mouthed silently to Sam who grinned.

"That's just Cas." Dean heard Sam explain as he left the room to go let their angel(s) in.

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	64. You're Not What I Expected

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><p>"Hey, Cas! Long time no see!" Dean grinned at the angel through the crack in the door he had opened. "Who's your lady friend?"<p>

"This is Hannah." Castiel said, somewhat awkwardly putting his arms around the shoulders of the other angel (in a female vessel) who had been studying a bluejay that was...TAKING A CRAP ON BABY'S HOOD?!

"HEY, ASSHAT!" Dean shouted, flinging the door open and charging. "Go find your own friggan' toilet, you Goddamned birdbrain!"

The bird looked at Dean's flapping arms and he would forever after swear that the thing smirked before letting loose with another round of explosive white décor for poor Baby.

Dean saw red.

"OH YOU SON OF A BITCH!" He screeched, lurching for the sassy bird with a war cry. Castiel and Hannah watched in bemusement as Dean slammed into the side of his car, growled at the bird, and proceeded to beat the hapless thing over the head with a Burger King wrapper he retrieved from the dashboard. Sam poked his head out of the door, waved at the two angels, and proceeded to stare at Dean, nonplussed and laughing helplessly.

"Dean? Are you quite all right?" Castiel asked in concern at last as the bluejay flew off and Dean collapsed against Baby, breathing like an angry bull.

"He's fine." Sam gasped, clutching his stomach. "How about you guys?"

"I believe the proper term would be 'peachy keen'."

Sam grinned. "Yeah, probably." He said, then looked at Castiel's companion. "Sorry...and you are?"

"Hannah." She looked Sam up and down critically and then shot another look at Dean, still red-faced after his assault on the bluejay. "You two are not what I expected."

It was like talking to pre-first-fall Castiel - all blunt observations and utter lack of human savvy. Sam smiled ruefully. "Yeah, sorry I'm not sporting the horns and pitchfork these days."

"What?"

"It is a reference to Lucifer." Cas said softly to her.

Hannah's eyes widened. "No!" She said, sounding slightly distressed. "No, sorry, that is not what I meant! Those who called you an abomination, Sam, they were wrong. We owe it to you for saving Father's creation from the archangels' madness. Thank you."

Sam blushed and shuffled slightly. "Um, yeah, I didn't do much."

"Shut up, Sammy." Dean said, now using his second teeshirt to mop the white poop off of Baby's windshield wipers. "He's too damn humble, ignore him."

Castiel looked slightly amused and Sam rolled his eyes at Dean. "Dude, was that your new shirt?"

Dean only scrubbed harder. "I've had it for months."

"One month. I bought that for you whenever I picked up some clothes for Adam (which, by the way, his jeans are practically just threads...we need to have a shopping trip). You can clean the bird poo out of it."

"Fine. I'll do that...not!"

"Very mature, Dean."

Dean cheerfully gave Sam the finger and wadded up his ruined shirt in one hand. "Screw you." He said. "Baby didn't deserve to have crap all over her."

"Oh I should have known."

"Yeah, well, next time the runt passes out on us we're going to carry him inside and then take the car to the garage. This was inconceivable!"

Sam smirked as he stood back to let Dean lead Hannah and Cas inside. "You keep using that word, I don't think you know what it means."

"Shut up..."

* * *

><p>"So you two are together?" Dean asked with a rather lecherous grin as he passed by Adam who was sitting stiffly and drinking ice water on autopilot.<p>

"Yes." Cas said as Hannah circled a chair once or twice before gingerly settling on the edge of the seat.

"I am helping Castiel seek out the scattered survivors of Metatron's betrayal." She said. "It is our duty to unite them and work towards taking back Heaven so we can fulfil our Father's demands."

Sam coughed in amusement. "Interesting. But I don't think that's what Dean meant."

Both Castiel and Hannah frowned in confusion. "Then what did you mean?" Cas asked.

It was Dean's turn to cough, looking rather awkward (as he typically did whenever he had to explain an innuendo to Castiel) "You two are together, y'know...dancing the horizontal tango?"

"Castiel is teaching me to drive." Hannah said as Castiel wrinkled his nose in confusion at Dean's increasingly awkward miming.

Sam kicked Dean in the shin. "What are you two doing in this area?" He asked the angels.

"Predictably, the angels have split into two factions." Cas said, still frowning at Dean. "We never have managed very well now that the archangels aren't around to take leadership."

"But it's a good thing that Raphael and the others are gone, right?"

"Yes and no. Angels were never created to have free will." Cas sighed and Hannah took over the explanation.

"We are servants of God." She said quietly. "Created to worship Him and to protect His most important creation - the humans made in His image. I don't know where we lost sight of that, but when we did everything began to fall apart. Castiel has given me a purpose again. We must reunite the angels and take back Heaven so we can fulfil Father's purpose for us." The angel gave Castiel a frankly adoring look as she said this.

Dean coughed something that sounded like 'cloud seeding'.

"Are you feeling ill, Dean?" Hannah inquired politely. She exchanged a look with Castiel. "Maybe he needs some of that pink stuff you gave Eleazer last night."

Now it was Sam's turn to cough into his hand. Dean _hated _Pepto Bismol. Hated it with a passion. Hated it in the way that he usually reserved for witches and shapeshifters and other nasties that shed their skin and spewed bodily fluids and generally made a mess of themselves. Last time Dean had been taken out by a stomach ailment (that Sam still wasn't sure if it was food poisoning from the mystery meat at lunch or the flu from interrogating a bunch of literally snot-nosed kids) he had treated Sam to a twenty minute long rant about how the pink stuff was the spittle of Satan (Sam took offence to that) and that it needed an exorcism or preferable last rites and cremation...this monologue occasionally interrupted by puking into the trash can and snarling at Sam every time he tried to convince Dean to take his medicine.

"I'm, uh, no. That won't be necessary." Dean said, back-pedalling wildly.

Cas looked concerned...with something that might have been amusement hovering just under the surface. "I don't know, Dean." He said solemnly. "You have been coughing ever since we got here. Maybe I should have a look at your throat? I've heard there is a device that will let you - "

"NO!"

Sam decided to rescue this awkward trainwreck of a conversation before it went further off the cliff. "What Dean is _trying _to ask." He said, stifling an inappropriate giggle. "Is if you are together. Like, in the Biblical sense."

Both Castiel and Hannah looked blank for a moment before understanding dawned. "No, Dean. We are not 'together in the Biblical sense'." Cas said, making use of air quotes.

Hannah wrinkled her nose. "Humans are funny." She said.

"You're...funny."

"Anyway!" Sam cut in, still laughing inside. "You were saying about the angels?"

There was a crunch as the cup Adam had been holding in his hand cracked and splintered. He stared at the shards blankly for a moment, flexing and clenching his bleeding hand before he snatched up a piece of the glass and ground it into his hand.

"Hey...HEY!" Dean yelled, amused mood abruptly fading as he grabbed Adam by the wrist and pried the glass away from him, putting pressure on the injured hand and looking at Sam. "Get me a napkin." He said. "Not one of the embossed ones...but there's some nice, plain ones in the bottom drawer."

Sam ran off, knocking over a chair as he went.

"Dean. I could heal him - "

"No, Cas, no offence but I think you getting close to him right now would be a very, very bad thing." Dean clenched his hand around Adam's more tightly and peered at his disturbingly vacant eyes. Yup. They were deep into flashback territory right now. Where was Sam with those napkins?

Adam jerked back from the crushing pressure on his hand and tried to curl in on himself.

"Oh no." Dean said, glaring at the blood dripping from between their fingers and onto Adam's tattered thrift shop jeans. "None of that." He felt a speck of remorse whenever Adam hissed in pain (he didn't _like _hurting his brother) but still held on grimly. Maybe if he squeezed tight enough on the wound he could bring Adam back to real life?

At any rate, it looked like Adam was going to end up with his own version of Sam's trusty old hand scar. Maybe that would come in useful...if only they could get this damn bleeding stopped.

Sam came back in, clutching a handful of napkins in one hand and the bandage bag in the other. "Cas, Hannah." He said quietly. "I think it would be best if you two vacated the premises for just now. Go wait in the kitchen or something." Cas nodded and shepherded the visible concerned Hannah out while Sam crouched down beside Adam and shook him gently while Dean saw to the bleeding hand. "Adam?" Sam said softly. "Hey, dude, you listening?"

A trickle of blood came from Adam's nose and he flinched away, entire body shuddering and eyes rolling up in his head.

"Crap! Help me get him on the floor, Dean." Sam said as Adam jerked, thrashing back and forth as if he was fighting off invisible attackers. (Which, he undoubtedly was.)

"ADAM!" Dean shouted as the three of them collapsed on the floor. "Hey, little brother!" He pressed down on Adam's cut up hand. Hard. "Ground yourself, Adam. C'mon, you can do it."

Adam only screamed and shrank away from Dean.

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	65. Three Little Boys Sat Down To Play

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><p>"Adam? Hey, buddy, you in there?"<p>

Adam's body gave one last jerk and he lay still, panting and whimpering softly between each breath, face screwed up in pain.

Dean took advantage of Adam's lax state to quickly snag the disinfectant spray (that miraculously still had a bit left in the bottom of the can) and finish binding this bloody hand. "Sorry, kid." He said as Adam hissed and cried out at the alcohol stinging his wounds. "It has to be done."

On the other side of Adam, Sam bit his lip and watched in worry. These were getting worse. He'd have to talk with Dean and see what he thought about maybe getting Adam in to see a doctor...just enough to get a CAT scan and maybe some medicine to help regulate the seizures. Sam remembered how he had struggled the few times he saw through the cracks in his wall (or after Cas broke said wall) and this had gone on long enough for Adam who had spent far longer being tortured and had come out with no protection against the memories. How he wasn't a drooling wreck was beyond Sam...Adam either clammed up or fell into an episode every time they even tried to ask.

Adam groaned and rolled over, wincing as he tried to prop himself up on his injured hand and shove Sam's hand off his ribs at the same time. "Dude!" He complained hoarsely. "Get off!"

Snatching his hand back like he had been burnt, Sam gave Adam his space. Dean, on the other hand, did no such thing. "What the hell was that, Adam?"

Adam flinched. "Nothin'."

"Didn't look like nothing to me. What...was it something somebody said? Because I can kick Cas and his girlfriend out if I have to."

"It was nothing!" Adam insisted sullenly, wobbling to his feet and promptly going the colour of spearmint toothpaste as he swayed back and forth alarmingly, swallowing like he was about to be sick.

"Okay, it's bed for you!" Sam said, _jumping_ to his feet and catching Adam before he could face plant.

Adam gritted his teeth as Sam wrapped an arm around his waist to support him. "I'm not a child." He said.

"No." Sam agreed. "You're not. But, speaking from personal experience, you probably feel like you just got hit by a planet...and you don't look much better. So you are going to go to bed and sleep it off, got it?"

"You sound like Dad." Adam slurred as Sam led him away.

Dean chuckled (because Sam _was_ channelling John Winchester) and gathered up the bloody cloths (frowning as he noticed one of the embossed ones in the bundle). "Oh Goddammit, Sammy!" He growled. "I said the plain ones!"

* * *

><p>"'M fine. I can walk."<p>

Adam's bold claim was undermined as he stumbled and fell heavily against Sam. "Whoa!" Sam said, catching his brother and steadying them against the wall (how many times had Dean done this for _him_?). "Easy there!"

"Shuttup." Adam muttered into Sam's neck. "Awkward."

"Well it'll be a lot more awkward if you rip your stitches and crack your head off of the floor. Dean just mopped."

"Dean's a dick."

Sam couldn't hold in a smile at that one. "Sometimes, yeah."

"He stuffed an angel in you."

"Yeah. He did."

Adam snorted. "He's a dick."

They tottered down the hallway and into Adam's room, tripping over a discarded shirt and landing on the bed with a thump. Sam removed Adam's elbow from his ribs and pulled himself up, pinning his younger brother in place with a look. "Either you get into bed or I tuck you in myself."

"Yes, _mom_." Adam crawled underneath the covers, giving Sam the stinkeye. "Now what? Not like I'm gonna be able to sleep."

"Then you can lay there and count sheep and rest your body."

* * *

><p>Dean took the bloodied napkins into the kitchen where Cas and Hannah were standing awkwardly. He ran some cold water in the sink to scrub out the stains.<p>

"Your brother." Hannah said hesitently. "Is he...is he well?"

"Oh yeah, he's just absolutely freaking okie dokie." Dean glared. "What do _you _think?" His voice was pure acid.

Hannah frowned. "You are upset." She said slowly. "Why?"

"Well I don't know. Maybe because my brother was just laying on the floor choking on his own tongue because he got chucked into Hell and left there for a few centuries?"

"What do you think set him off, Dean?" Castiel asked carefully.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. He used to have obvious triggers, but these days it seems like anything and everything sends him into an episode. We never know what it'll be and, considering he's avoiding us at all costs, there's probably quite a few times that we don't see him. He's going to crack his head open someday because Sam or I aren't there to catch him."

"I could take a look - "

"Thanks, but no thanks, Cas." Dean said firmly. "I don't want you poking around in my brother's head."

"Well then maybe I could." Hannah offered. "I am not living on borrowed Grace the way that Castiel is. If you would wish it, I can see if there is some way I can ease your brother's suffering."

It was tempting, but Dean didn't want to risk it. Adam had been hurt enough by angels, thanks to him. He wasn't going to go make that mistake again. Even if Hannah meant well and even though Cas trusted her, Dean wasn't taking any chances with angels and his brothers. Never again.

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><p><em>Breath. Don't flinch. Don't scream. You're fine. You're out. You're cool. It's just Dean.<em>

Adam took a shuddering breath and focused on holding his hands still so the book wouldn't tremble. He could do this.

The thing was, in Hell (what little he could remember aside from jumbled flashes of pain, more pain, and still more pain) Michael and Lucifer had taken great pleasure in impersonating the forms of his two big brothers.

Brothers by unhappy chance, only, mind. They may be related, but they were _not _family. Not after they forgot him time and time again and only remembered whenever it damn well pleased them. He was having a hard time telling what was real and what wasn't again...though probably months of living on too little sleep wasn't helping.

Now if only Sam and Dean would stop walking and doing things behind his back! It wasn't so bad if he could see them coming...

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><p><strong>Read &amp; Review! :)<strong>


	66. The Yellow Brick Road Home

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><p><strong>40th Day of Summerlethe, Oz, Faerie<strong>

**OH BOOOOYS! GUESS WHAT!**

**The queen is coming back, bitches, that's what! Things are stabilising here in Oz and everything just looks peachy keen between it and the surrounding kingdoms. There's still the rogue wheeler attack now and then (they're like mould...you just can't eradicate them all) but for the most part everything is peaceful. Oz is starting to rebuild and...and I really wish you guys were here to see it. The Emerald City is BEAUTIFUL! And the countryside is exploding with life so that the air practically hums with it. It's everything I imagined and more. Dorothy may sneer at the books her dad embellished and published, but they were my childhood. Right along with Anne of Green Gables and Tolkien. One time I broke my ankle and Dad bought me the entire SERIES for me to read while waiting to have my bone set.**

**Sam...I wish I could take you to Avalon with me. You'd like it there, I think, you and Dean. Lots of swords to play with and their new capital city, Camelot, is to DIE for! (Not literally...not anymore...calm down.) Everything is settling down and so ****I'll be coming home soon.**

**Home.**

**It's funny how that one word can mean so much, y'know? (And sit your ass down, Dean Winchester! We ARE going to have a chick-flick moment here! I'm feeling weepy and I have no chocolate.) I dunno how you guys feel about me, but I'll always consider you my big brothers. I know I don't really have any right to assume that I'm part of your family...and I don't, because what you have is something special and I never, NEVER want to intrude on that...I just want you to know that I love you. Both of you. You saved me from Dick Roman, you saved my friends from Gilda (even if you DID keep me from banging her...that time), and you were there for me whenever my mother died.**

**I just...I LOVE you! I don't know what it is, but I didn't even think twice about dropping everything and running to you whenever you called about that ancient computer. And it wasn't just for the chance to dissect a dinosaur either. You two have become my family and, even if you don't feel the same way, I just wanted you to know. Thanks for letting me into your lives. It's been a wild ride, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.**

**Anyway. Just wanted you to know. Gilda's telling me to blow out the candle and come to bed, so I'm going to cut off on that utterly sappy note. Miss you loads! I'm going to try and see if I can get one of the Brownies to hop across dimensions and deliver my letters, just in case it takes me a while to get back home.**

**Home. It's SO nice to say that! Oz is great, but it isn't my home. And it never will be.**

**Night, boys! Take care of yourselves!**

**Charlie**

* * *

><p>"Dean, I'm serious, maybe we should take him to a doctor."<p>

"And tell him what?" Dean looked up from the pan he was scrubbing to give Sam an incredulous look. "_Oh, by the way, doc!" _He said in a high-pitched, nasally voice. "_Remember those two back-from-the-dead psychos from the news a couple of years ago? Hello! We're back again! And we've got our equally back-from-the-dead, psycho bro here for you to look at. Have a nice day and please don't call the cops!_"

Sam shot a bitchface in Dean's general direction. "No!" He said. "That's not what I meant. I just...Adam's going to hurt himself with one of those seizures someday. Either we're not going to be there to catch him and keep him from choking, or they're going to damage his brain. We're just lucky it hasn't already."

Dean punched a soap bubble to let off some feelings. "I don't know, Sammy." He said. "It's not like any shrink is going to know how to help somebody with centuries of Hell crap compressed into their noggin."

"I wasn't suggesting we take him to a psychiatrist, Dean. Just a doctor. Maybe see if something would show up on a CAT scan."

"What? An imprint of Satan's warty nose?"

"Well, dammit, if that's the way you're going to be!" Sam threw the dish towel at Dean's face and started to stalk off, prompting Dean to dry his hands hurriedly on his jeans and run after his brother.

"Sam, hey, that's not what I meant. Sorry."

Sam peered at Dean suspiciously. "Surprised you apologised, but okay. What did you mean?"

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Dude...d'you think I haven't thought of getting Adam checked out?" He said, feeling rather weary. "I don't like seeing the kid scream and thrash any more than you do. Hell, it's been weeks since Abaddon and Crowley and we still haven't done anything other than call Kevin and sit around here on our asses trying to keep our heads above water. But taking Adam out somewhere and having strangers poke and prod him and then feed him pills that'll probably mess him up worse than ever won't help. It's not like the psych ward helped you out with Hallucifer, now did it?"

"I guess not."

"Then it's settled. So stop your bitching and moaning and stop wearing a hole in my floor. You're driving _me _mad."

Sam snorted. "_Your _floor?" He took the dishrag back from Dean and started swiping at the now-clean pot from supper last night. "_Your _floor?"

"Seeing as how I'm the one that sweeps and mops it, hell yeah my floor!"

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	67. Bumpers & Babes

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><p>"ADAM! BREAKFAST! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!"<p>

Sam blinked as Dean bellowed through the Bunker and, glancing at his watch, figured that he should probably put away the laptop and go eat. So, saving his data, he did just that...passing a bleary-eyed Adam on his way who scowled and ducked into the bathroom. "Five minutes, dude." Sam said through the door that was slammed in his face. "Then Dean might just go all 'Here's Johnny' on this door."

"It's not like I'm going to fall in." Adam's voice came from the other side of the door. "Now go away. You're giving me stage fright."

"Five minutes." Sam reminded him and went on his way to the kitchen where Dean was banging about with his pots and pans and cheerfully whistling (an off-key rendition of Dust in the Wind by Kansas) as he made a mess frying eggs and...making smoothies? "Uh, Dean?" Sam asked carefully, wondering if his brother was possessed. "Is that a blender?"

"Actually, it's a blender-juicer all-in-one combo machine thingy." Dean said with a smile. "I got it a couple months ago whenever we were going dumpster diving for that cursed pair of toenail clippers - " Sam grimaced at the memory...that had been NASTY! " - and all it really needed was a good sterilisation and a new lid. Friggan' gated communities...throwing everything away."

"Freaking insane." Sam agreed. While he and Dean had never exactly _wanted _for food and decent clothes and toys and all that growing up, John had also been a staunch believer in a frugal, waste-not-want-not lifestyle...partially because the part-time odd jobs he would pick up to supplement his credit card scams and hustling never paid very well. If Sam or Dean had EVER thrown anything out before it was utterly worn and not recyclable, they would have been in trouble. Sam would never understand those with money to spare who just threw things out on a whim.

"So, we have a juicer?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Figured you could use it to make up some of those dreadful kiwi mango slushies you like so much."

Despite the rough sneer in his voice, there was a fond smile hanging about Dean's eyes and Sam was touched. "Thank you." He said just as Adam shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and still looking half asleep.

Good. Maybe he had actually managed to sleep through the night this time.

"Morning, squirt!" Dean piped, turning down the heat under the eggs he was frying and chucking eggshells into the garbage. "Hope you're in the mood for eggs and orange juice."

"I'm not hungry."

"Sure. But if you get any scrawnier you're going to stop having a shadow when you stand sideways...and then we can't take you anywhere!"

Adam stared at Dean as if Dean had just picked his nose and juggled flaming ostridges at the same time. "It's not like you take me anywhere anyway, asshat." He said at last, flopping down at the table sulkily.

"Well that's all going to change." Sam said, plating up some eggs and shoving them under Adam's nose.

Wrinkling his nose and poking at the still-runny eggs, Adam looked suspiciously at his big brothers. "We've been holed up in here for almost a month. What the hell made you decide to go out now?"

"We're going on a picnic." Dean said snidely, taking a swig from the orange juice carton. "What d'you think we're doing? We're going on a hunt!"

"Why?"

"Because, my dear boy, the truth is out there and it's our job to light its ass on fire." Dean paused, considering. "Or stab it...whichever we end up doing."

"Charming." Adam grimaced at the eggs. "Do I have to eat these?"

"Do you feel like you're going to puke or pass out?"

A poisonous look from Adam. "No."

"Then you have to eat them. Stop whining." Dean looked at Sam who was horking down his own eggs. "Did you get the details from Garth?"

* * *

><p>An hour or so later found the three brothers piling into Baby for a road trip, detouring on the way to the case because Dean felt compelled to take the car through a car wash to make SURE all of the bird poop was gone.<p>

It only took ten minutes and a couple of dollars, so Sam rolled his eyes and conceded to Dean's whim.

Adam said nothing, nose buried in a Bumpers & Babes magazine Dean had chucked at his head whenever he complained about Dean's choice of music, but he visibly flinched and looked up in surprise whenever the water jets hit the top of the car.

"All okay back there?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." He said. "Just startled me, that's all."

He didn't seem to be further affected, so Sam figured it had been the shock of being pulled out of something he was engrossed in rather than danger of something Hell related. Maybe today would finally be a good day?

They could always hope...

"That's more like it!" Dean crowed as they exited the wash with Baby's sides gleaming in the morning sun. "Worth every nickel."

Sam exchanged a look with Adam in the rearview mirror that was something close to exasperated amusement. "Any time you two want to get a room." He said. "Just let us know."

"Shhh, Baby. He doesn't understand us."

Adam rolled his eyes, a reluctant grin twitching the corners of his mouth.

"So, Sammy, what exactly did Garth say?"

"I told you everything, Dean. He doesn't know much more than we do." Sam didn't like this. He didn't like going into a case blind on the best of times these days, but he liked it even less now that they had Adam to keep an eye on. Somehow he didn't think that the fighting and gunplay that usually happened on a hunt would be good for Adam (Did he even know how to use a gun?) and if it turned out to be a case involving demons or angels...that would be even worse.

But they had no choice. The hunting community had never been particularly robust (not since the days of Sam's grandparents, and even then not really) but the Apocalypse and Leviathans had thinned them out even further to the point where now any hunters tended to be those who stumbled on the life by accident. There were no families left. No orders of priests. No Men of Letters. No underground society. Nothing. It was dog eat dog and kill or be killed because there were still monsters in the world, but fewer hunters to keep them at bay.

So whenever Garth called, practically begging them to take on a case and help some hunter named Chris out, they couldn't say no. People were dying. They'd just have to make do.

Dean sighed. "I don't like this." He said. "These kind of cases are never as simple as they should be."

"I know."

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><p><strong>Does anybody have a guess on what this case might turn out to be? :)<strong>


	68. Many Meetings (Okay, Just One)

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><p>"You think you'll be okay coming into the bar with us, or do you want somebody to wait out here in the car with you?"<p>

Adam glared darkly at Dean. "I'm not a friggan' child." He said acidly. "I'm nineteen years old in Earth Years and probably...probably older than you two combined in...gah!" He pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead. "'M fine." He cut his brothers off. "Just gimme a sec."

Sam and Dean exchanged a concerned look while Adam grimaced and massaged his head. This was happening WAY too often. He was getting worse. _Maybe coming on this hunt was a mistake._ Sam's look said and Dean nodded in agreement. _Yeah. This is crap._

"Stop doing that." Adam ground out, eyes still clenched shut.

"Doing what?"

"Communicating telepathically. It's freaky."

"You have your eyes shut!"

Adam cracked one open cautiously and gave one last rub to his head. "Well maybe a few people twenty miles or so away might not have heard you..."

"You brat!" Dean chuckled and shook his head. Adam just shrugged and straightened his jacket. "You good, kid?"

"I'm fine. Let's get going before Chris gets tired and decides to leave without us." He clambered out of the back seat and started towards the bar, looking back impatiently at his older brothers. "Are you coming or what?"

"Damn. I'm never going to understand that kid." Dean said as he and Sam scrambled to follow Adam.

The interior of the bar was smoky and kind of dark and smelled like the combination of booze and sweat and exhaust fumes that made the type of establishments Sam and Dean frequented such an experience. There was really an atmosphere to it, what with the dusty moose head on the wall that Sam glared suspiciously at and the No Smoking sign that had clearly been used as a dartboard over the course of many years.

As soon as they were inside with the door shut behind them, Dean clamped a hand on Adam's shoulder and dug his fingers in. "No drinking. Not a drop." He said sternly in Adam's ear.

"Hey, idiot," Adam hissed back, "I'm not old enough to drink. What do you think I am, a moron?"

"Don't try to tell me you've never guzzled one with your frat buddies."

"I wasn't in a fraternity. Buzz off."

"Guys...guys, can we not do this?" Sam asked, shoving them forward slightly. "We are on a job, remember?"

Dean let go of Adam as the kid muttered something about _"...don't see why I can't drink, anyway...freaking hypocrites..." _and scanned the bar for any signs of 'Chris'. They didn't have much to go on (Garth had never met the guy and hadn't been able to give a whole lot of detail) but hunters shouldn't be too hard to find in the den of middle-aged, balding bikers and scantily clad young girls.

"You dudes the Winchesters?" A redhead with a pixie cut and a leather vest hailed them from her place at a deserted corner of the bar as they made their way through the crowds. "Garth said you'd be coming. C'mon and sit down...beers are on me!"

Glancing at each other, Sam and Dean and Adam made their way over to the redhead who led them to a booth, beers in hand.

Dean promptly swiped Adam's.

'Chris' wasn't a guy at all. She was a short, thin, brown-eyed woman who looked to be around thirty and still looked both careless and non-weathered enough to be identified as a new hunter. Dean thought he might come to like her.

"So, y'all got here a pretty fast. Hope Garth didn't call you from too far away."

"You're quick."

"I understand that, to survive in this life, you kind of have to be." Chris grinned, showing the gap between her front teeth. "And you two are not what I expected at all."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yup. To hear everybody talk, I was expecting some kind of demon-angel-superman hybrids. Personally I don't see what everybody's so scared of, but what do I know?"

"Well first off," Dean cleared his throat with a drink of beer, "It wouldn't be Superman. It clearly would be Batman."

Sam rolled his eyes as Chris snorted. "I like you!" She declared, reaching across and shaking Dean's hand firmly. "Christiana Pilgrim."

"Dean Winchester. So, what's the case?"

"If I knew I wouldn't have called Garth for backup. A ghost or a wendigo or whatever I can handle. This is something seriously weird and I'm not so stupid as to get in over my head."

There was an audible snort from Adam. "Smart." He said, cracking a crooked smile. "Smarter than these two blockheads here."

Chris chuckled. "Yeah, well, they're your dads. Of course you think they're blockheads." Dean choked. Beer had gone up his nose and clogged his airway. He couldn't breath. Sam helpfully pounded him on the back while he spluttered and coughed and Adam watched in amusement. "Oh my God." Chris said. "Are you okay?"

"He's fine." Sam said, slapping Dean between the shoulder blades. "Something just went down the wrong pipe."

"I guess so!"

"So, _Dad_." Adam had a wicked look on his face. "Can we listen to Chris talk about her case now?"

Dean coughed and tried to clear his throat. "Yeah, sure. Give us the skinny." He croaked.

Chris gave him a concerned look, but started laying it out. "So I got wind about a week or so ago of a couple weird deaths out here in Podunk, Nowhere, so I came into town to poke around a bit. I figured maybe it was a pissed off spirit or a cursed object or something, but nada. The deaths have been everything from someone being ripped up by what looks like a dog to one that was impaled through the spleen."

"What's so weird about that?" Sam asked.

"It was with a vacuum hose in his locked apartment."

"Ahhh. So, you checked for EMF?"

She smiled grimly. "Of course, I'm not a total rookie. As far as I could tell, there's nada. I swept the entire apartment block and checked all the cars and surrounding buildings. Nothing."

"Hex bags? It could be a witch."

"Nope." Chris shook her head. "I checked for that. Hence why I got myself a fifth of whiskey and called Garth last night. Hence your presence."

"Huh." Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

Dean drained his beer and made to get out of the booth. "We'll go have a look tomorrow, hopefully before this damn thing kills again. Another round, folks?"

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	69. Murphy's Law

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Haha! Okay, to everybody worried about 'Chris', don't. She is no more a permanent fixture than Samantha the Evil Stepmother. I use OC's as roadstops in my fics to broaden the world and give the Winchesters different people to interact with. They never stick around permanently because the focus of my writing is on the canon characters. Believe me, I hate it when an original intruder takes over a fic too, so that will NOT happen! This has been a PSA. ;)_

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><p>"So, Dean, what d'you think?"<p>

"I think somebody was smoking something other than tobacco in that bar!" Dean unlaced his boots and flopped down on the bed face-first.

"Yeah, probably." Sam dropped the bags onto Dean while Adam went to retrieve the cot that the lady at the desk had _said _was in the closet behind the ironing board. "So, any thoughts on the case?"

Dean rolled over and rubbed his eyes with one fist. "To be honest, no." He said. "We'll have to get out the suits tomorrow and go poke around that poor death-by-vacuum guy's apartment. Just to double-check Chris' work. She means well, but she's still pretty green and she may have missed something."

"You can do that." Sam said, shedding one of his shirts. "I'm going to go over to the morgue and see if I can get a look at those bodies the 'wild animal' got to."

"Right." Dean lurched to his feet. "Out of my way, shorty!" He said, nudging Adam (who was unfolding his cot) over and bounding for the bathroom. "I gotta take a piss."

"Charming, Dean. Thanks for sharing."

* * *

><p>"You are WAY too comfortable with breaking into things." Adam said as Dean picked the lock to vacuum-dude's apartment.<p>

Dean grunted, tongue between his teeth with concentration. "Dad taught me when I was a kid. He wanted us to know how to pick locks in case we got captured or anything."

Adam snorted. "Nice of him." He said, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"What?"

"Oh nothing. Just...that would have been nice to know whenever the ghouls locked me in a coffin for hours."

Dean winced. He loved his father...he didn't always agree with the way John had done things...but he loved him. The man had been given a bum rap at pretty much every turn in life, but damn it all if he hadn't tried his best to make do with what they had been given. Dean had memories of John complaining about Sam joining the soccer team, but working overtime at a garage to scrape together enough money for the equipment. John would push them hard to train and raised them like warriors, but it hadn't been all work and no play. He was stern, not cruel, and had sometimes taken them out to a lake or river for a day of swimming. Granted this was partially aimed towards further training and conditioning, but it was fun too.

Dean loved John. But he would never really understand why his dad hadn't prepared Adam and his mother in some way. For all his talk to Sam on their first trip out to Windom whenever they found out that Adam existed, Dean didn't really think John had made the right choice anymore.

_Dammit, Dad! _

"Well at least you got him to take you to a ball game for your birthday." Dean said at last, feeling one more pin in the lock give way.

Adam snorted again and slouched against the wall. "John took me to one ball game on one birthday. I don't know where you got your info from, but that was all. Don't try to get all lovey-dovey to me about that man."

_Okaaay._ "I'll show you how to pick a lock later, if you'd like." A peace offering.

"Sure, whatever."

* * *

><p>"Sammy? Did you get a look at the bodies?"<p>

"Yeah, Dean. It's not a werewolf. Wrong lunar cycle and the heart was still - "

"It's hellhounds."

Sam swore. "You sure?"

"Pretty friggan' sure, Sam." Dean held on to the wheel with one hand and whipped them around a corner.

"Dude!" Adam protested.

Dean ignored him. "Eric Gardner's apartment had been left in a pretty pristine environment (yes, you were right...we should have taken the gloves) and I don't think anybody's been back there, even to clean it. And we found sulphur. Lots of sulphur. An obscene amount of sulphur. So much sulphur that I'm surprised the neighbours haven't been complaining about sewer gasses...what? YES I FREAKING KNOW THAT THOSE WOULD MOSTLY BE METHANE! YOU LET THEM OUT IN OZONE-DESTROYING LEVELS EVERY TIME WE DAMN GO TO TACO BELL!"

Adam sniggered.

"Yeah, Sam, yeah. Sorry. Just...God. Another friggan' demon case? Why can't it ever be just a cursed object? Or an ACTUAL Trickster going on a binge? Why do we always have to get wrapped up in overcomplicated crap like this? Gonna have to check the newspaper archives, see if this place had a strike of unprecedented good luck around ten years ago."

"Right. Meet you back at the motel in ten or so. Chris was going to scout out the police station. She's meeting us back there."

"Okay." Dean snapped his phone shut and stepped on the gas.

* * *

><p>Dean and Adam beat Sam back to the motel, pulling into the parking lot just before Chris wheeled in in her blue VW beetle. Sam arrived five minutes later, looking rather sweaty as he jogged into the parking lot. Dean wondered how many people had stopped to stare at the running guy in a blue suit.<p>

"Dammit, Sammy, we exorcise, not exercise!" He said as Sam flipped some hair out of his eyes.

"Screw you." Sam said, ripping off his jacket and tie. "Hey, Adam. Could you put these in the laundry bag?"

Adam made a face as the tie hit him in the face and muttered something that sounded like _"Who was your maid last week?!" _as he slunk off inside the room.

"So...reports?" Chris said, looking at the brothers. "I didn't find much at the police station. The Chief is a real misogynistic jerk who really should be written up for obstructing justice. Sadly, I can't write him up because I'm not a real cop."

"Yeah. Non-perks of the job."

"Did y'all find anything?"

Sam nodded. "We think it's a demon." He said.

Chris' jaw dropped comically. "You're kidding." Her voice had a bit of a squeak to it. "No, no way."

"'Fraid so. All the signs are there. Sulphur, some poor bastard chewed up by a hound nobody saw, freaky accidents, and I'll bet if you look back, you'll see that there was an explosion of prosperity around here about ten years ago."

"Damn."

"You should probably get out of here, Chris." Dean said, popping open Baby's trunk and digging through the secret arsenal compartment.

"The hell I will!"

"I'm not kidding." He was deadly serious. "We're dealing with some bad mojo here. Demon deals, hellhounds, the works. Trust me when I say you do NOT want to get involved with that. Once you get flagged on their radar, you're pretty much done for, and these cases can get messy. There are no winners. Get out while you can."

"And what about you?" Chris wasn't stupid - if a more experienced hunter was telling her that she was in over her head, she was in over her head. She would listen. She didn't have a death wish.

"We'll be fine." Sam smiled grimly at her. "Demons deals are...they're kinda our speciality."

"What about Adam?"

Chris looked at Dean and sighed. "Look." She said. "I don't want to overstep my bounds here and it's probably none of my business - " Dean snorted, " - but that kid of yours shouldn't be anywhere _near _a demon."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, he's how old, seventeen? He's just a kid. Demons are...demons are bad mofo's. Even I know that. And, no offence, but has Adam recently gone through some kind of trauma?"

Dean shrugged. "In this life, do you have a choice?" He pulled his head out of the weapons compartment and looked at her. "Look. I _appreciate _your concern, but Adam's fine. We'll keep him well out of the line of fire and, trust me, demons are _not _the worst thing he's had to deal with."

Eyes wide, Chris looked at Sam. "There are worse things than demons?"

_Dammit, Dean_. "That's the thing about the Supernatural world, Chris. There's _always _something worse lurking out there."

She swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. Right. That's why there are people like us."

"Uh-huh." Dean said. "So, get out of town. In fact, get as far away as you can and forget you were ever here. Stick to wendigos and ghosts and werewolves and don't mess with demons if you can possibly avoid it. Got it?"

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"We'll try our damn best to be."

"Okay then. Guess that's the best I can ask for." Chris grinned at them. "Nice meeting you guys. Stay safe. I'm heading out to Maine. Hear there's a haunted lighthouse that needs a good cleansing." She headed into her motel room and exited again with a bulging dufflebag and a small suitcase. "Well...good luck."

"You too."

Chris got into her little VW bug and started the engine with a putt-putt, waving at them as she drove away.

"That was easy." Dean said, a little bit nonplussed. "I thought for sure we'd have to fight her on that."

"Not everybody is as crazy as we are, Dean." Sam said. Then he grinned. "You do realise that she still thinks we're a gay couple and Adam is our kid, right?"

"SON OF A BITCH!"

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	70. This Isn't Wall Street, It's Hell!

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><p>"So get this." Sam said, flipping through Chris' case notes and several web pages at once. "There WAS a sudden surge of prosperity about ten years ago. It says here that Malcolm Hiddlesworth won the lotto in 2005."<p>

"So? Could just be some bastard getting lucky. We've got to be sure."

Sam shot Dean a mild bitchface. "I _am _sure." He said. "Two other guys rocketed to success that same week (one getting a contract in Nashville and the other being made head of the company) and one girl married the son of the richest man in town. Hiddlesworth was the first victim and the other two, a Mr. Jethro Kelly and Andrew Knox are both dead. Knox was Vacuum Dude. I guess the demon decided to finish him off personally instead of just sending in the hound."

"But the girl's still alive?"

"Emilia Tartle? Yeah. She's still alive. But, before you go running off to play white knight, we've got another problem."

"Yeah." Dean said. "She's married."

Sam raised his eyes to the heavens as if seeking divine patience. "No, Dean, those three guys don't account for all the deaths."

"Come again?"

"Dean, according to the records and to the information Chris left us, there have been no less than _thirteen _deaths within the past six months. Some are most definitely unhappy accidents (like the town drunk falling in front of a train) but most of them are definitely weird. Our kind of weird."

Dean scratched his nose thoughtfully. "So you think the demon stuck around for _six months _ten years ago? Isn't getting that many people to sign over their souls in that small amount of time kind of, I dunno, unusual?"

"You'd think so. Especially in a town this size. But here's the thing - some of those people got their 'big breaks' only WEEKS ago."

Well that was...not entirely new, but certainly unusual. Dean frowned. "So you think maybe a demon is filching on deals again?"

Sam shrugged. "Seems possible. It's not like Crowley's there to make sure they stay more honest than Wall Street these days."

"Or Abaddon keeping everyone whipped either. Dammit. Those two deserved to go, but it's mixed everything up. Who's even in charge down in Hell these days?"

Yeah. Maybe Crowley _had _been a cockroach of intense levels of annoyance...but at least he was the devil they knew. They knew how to deal with Crowley. Knew how he thought. Knew more-or-less what to expect from his regime.

Sam didn't regret killing him, but he wasn't looking forward to the mess that would be left now that Hell was without BOTH of its vying leaders.

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><p>"Adam, you keep the door locked and you don't open it up to anybody."<p>

Adam raised an eyebrow, looking away from the re-run of Lucy and the chocolates. "How will you guys get back in if I'm not supposed to let anybody through the door?"

"We're taking the key with us." Dean said, shoving said item into the rear pocket of his jeans. "Don't go surfing porn on Sam's laptop. He gets bitchy whenever it freezes up."

Sam glared at Dean. "Shut up." He said, double-checking to make sure his gun was loaded. "You got the black cat bone?"

Adam wrinkled his nose in disgust as Dean nodded and waggled said black cat bone in the air. (The brothers always kept a supply of these in the car. It was one of the additions to their necessary hunting kit they had acquired over the years. Sometimes you had to summon a demon quickly...and little old ladies didn't take kindly to your quest to extract the needed bone from 'Coco Puff'.)

"Hold down the fort until we get back."

Adam waved them out, eyes fixed on Lucille Ball again. Sam and Dean left him to his re-runs and headed out of the motel, making for the nearest crossroads. It was only about half a mile away - outside of town enough to be secluded, but not so far as to be remote.

"We're getting too old for this." Dean grumbled as he started digging a hole while Sam sprayed a Devil's Trap. "Why can't we just be digging graves or torching changelings or something normal? But _nooo _we're out here summoning a friggan' DEMON!"

"Dean? What the hell is wrong with you? You've been in a bad mood ever since we ate lunch. What, mad that the waitress didn't pull you off for a quickie in the dish pit?"

"No, Sam, what's wrong is that it's cold. And damp. And my knee hurts. And I'm kneeling here in the dirt summoning a damn demon. What's your excuse?"

Sam narrowed his eyes. "I don't have one. I'm just cold. My jacket still has a rip in it from the last time we fought Abaddon." He shook the can of spray paint and coaxed out a final few spurts to close off the trap. "We're going to have to get some more. That was our last can."

"Peachy." Dean muttered and rolled his eyes, kicking the dirt back over the hole where he had put their box. He wasn't really annoyed at Sam. He was just stressed. Summoning demons may be old hat for them by now (and _how _messed up were their lives that they could say that?!) but that didn't mean he LIKED dealing with those sons of bitches.

Plus, Adam was back at the hotel all by himself.

Visions of blood and broken glass hovered in Dean's head. Though Adam hadn't had an incident yet today, really they were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. This was not good. They couldn't keep going like this. Somebody was going to snap.

Sam spoke the words of the incantation and they stood huddled together, breathing on their hands and looking around to see where the shadiest of all salesmen would show up.

"Winchesters. To what do I owe the..._pleasure_?" Sam and Dean wheeled around to see a tiny woman in a pair of fishnets and a red woollen dress staring at them, bored. "Really?" She complained, toeing at the trap she was stuck in.

Sam and Dean stared, utterly shocked.

"Snookie?!"

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	71. Gimme More

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><p>The demon, Snooki, put one hand on her hip and looked at them impatiently. "What, do you want a round of applause?"<p>

Sam was still gaping, nonplussed and unsure of just what to say.

Dean had no such reservations. "Well. That explains a lot."

Snookie rolled her eyes. "Meaning?"

There was a harrumph as Sam cleared his throat. "Right, um, good, uh Snooki...can I call you Snooki?"

"No. It's Nicole now."

Sam blinked. "Okay, Nicole. We, uh, we just need a little bit of information from you."

"What's it worth to you?" With one hip jutted out and that mode of speech, Dean was expecting her to start snapping some chewing gum at any minute.

"No deal, Snooks." He said, ignoring her peevish glare. "Either you start talking, or..." He pulled out the knife and grinned at her darkly.

"Whoa, whoa...not this face, are you crazy?" She said, taking a step back and running into the edge of the trap. "Look, guys, I don't know what you're after, but I probably don't know. It's above my pay grade. I just act and make deals in my spare time. That's all."

"Who's welching on deals in this town?"

"I said I didn't know, didn't I? Are we done? I have an appointment with my manicurist in ten minutes." Dean fingered the demon blade meaningfully and she seemed to get the hint. "Hey, it's not my fault some of the guys are getting impatient. This isn't the only crossroads in town, you know, and I sure as hell ain't the one breaking deals. I do my job and I don't mess it up, thank you very much!"

"Do you have any idea who it could be?"

'Nicole' shrugged. "Could be Perez. He always DID get impatient with old Lucky's policies. That's why he never climbed any ladders and is still running that blog."

Dean digested that information. "Okay...but why would this Perez dick be breaking deals?"

"How should I know?"

"My knife says that you do."

The demon gave him an irritated look. "All I know is that Abaddon has gone missing and Crowley was last seen sniffing about ol' Bobby Singer's property waiting for you two to show up. We haven't seen him since and so some of the 'lads' are cashing in on deals early. He's the one who mandated a 10 year waiting period. That wasn't in the original handbook."

"Anything else you can manage to remember?"

"No. Can I go now?"

Dean sheathed his knife and stepped back. "Certainly. Sammy?"

"_Exorzamus..._"

Snooki looked at Dean, aghast. "You son of a bitch." She said as Sam recited the exorcism and her body began to be flung back and forth, mussing her hair.

Neither Dean nor Sam could find it in themselves to be very sympathetic.

With a mighty scream, Snooki flung her head back and, as Sam intoned the final words of Latin, black smoke shot from her mouth and billowed away into the night. Her body fell limply to the ground and Sam jumped forward to check her pulse.

"She alive?" Dean asked, sheathing his knife and going to crouch down next to Sam.

"No." Sam said. "She's not alive. We couldn't save her."

"Dammit."

Dean's phone went off. It was Adam.

"S-Sam...Sam?"

"It's Dean, Adam."

"No, no. Need Sam."

"Okay, kiddo, whatever you say." Dean put one hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Sam. "It's Adam." He said quietly. "Sounds like he's close to having a breakdown."

Sam took the phone and, pinching the bridge of his nose, started to speak while Dean vented his feelings by kicking 'Snookie's' body and muttering something about ..._'shouldn't have left him alone...'_

"Adam?"

"SAM!" Oh God...Adam MUST be bad off. He wouldn't be calling them and letting himself sound so vulnerable if he wasn't. Why did they think it was a good idea to leave in him a motel room with nothing but daytime TV for company?!

"Breath, Adam. What is it?"

"Loud." Adam was hyperventilating. "Too damn loud. Can't shut them up."

Crap. "Who's loud? The people on the TV?" There was a thud and the sound of choking and Sam jumped to his feet. "Adam? ADAM!"

"What's happening?" Dean demanded.

Sam ignored him. "ADAM!"

Some rustling and a muffled curse from the other end of the line and Adam was back on. "I'm here, Sam."

"Are you okay?"

"Geeze, yeah, I'm great!"

"Sure?"

"Why do you keep saying that? Of course I'm (OW!) fine." The phone beeped as Adam promptly held up, leaving Sam staring at the receiver helplessly.

"I don't like this." Dean said, getting into Baby and revving the engine. "That sounded suspicious. Get your ass in here. We're going to check on him."

* * *

><p>"Okay, Adam. What's the sitch?"<p>

"Who are you, Kim Possible?" Adam was lounging on Dean's bed with a copy of OK magazine propped up in his lap. He was also sipping on some kind of steaming drink that smelled like chocolate and cinnamon.

Dean frowned. "Where the hell did you get that?"

"From the gift shop down the street. Little old lady is offering free samples. After you hung up, I got myself some."

"You weren't supposed to leave this room."

Adam shot Dean an irritated look. "Screw you. I was thirsty."

"You were thirsty."

"Yeah. Are we done?"

"No we are NOT freaking done!" Sam interrupted uncharacteristically, stalking over to the bed so he could loom over Adam. "How about you explain what that little 'things are too loud' episode was about?"

Adam winced and shut his eyes, scratching his arm vigorously. "Nothing."

"Didn't sound like nothing to me." Dean said. "And what's your problem, anyway?" He eyeballed Adam's scratching fingers. "You're going to draw blood."

Adam grinned for a moment, sickly and twisted in a way that was more of a leer-grimace than a smile, and yanked his hand away from his arm. "Well aren't _you _in a pissy mood!" He said.

That did it. "Pack your crap." Dean said, pulling the OK magazine away and holding it between two fingers as if it was a piece of vile trash. (Which it was.) "You're coming on a demon hunt with us."

"Why?"

"Because we need someone to man the getaway car. Now come on."

Adam shuffled out the door and through the salt line and into the backseat of Baby. He walked with a bit of a swagger (probably to hide the way he kept flinching and wincing, Sam guessed) and slunk into his place with a smirk.

Oh well. At least he wasn't swearing or swooning.

Dean and Sam got in the front and started driving.

Adam started itching his arm again.

"So." Dean said, pulling back out onto the road. "Where is this crossroads that this 'Perez' dude will probably be at?"

"South Gowers St." Sam said. "It's the only other true crossroads around here for miles.

A snort from Adam.

"Anything to add, short stuff?"

"Nah. Can we turn on the radio? I'm bored."

With a frown, Dean looked in the rearview mirror. "Are you _sure _you're feeling all right?"

An eyeroll from Adam. "Uh..._yeah_, clearly I'm fine. Radio?"

Dean exchanged a look with Sam. This was weird. Was Adam developing a split personality? Not that either Sam or Dean would blame him if he was (though it certainly would make life more difficult). Just so long as he didn't start hallucinating the Devil singing in his ear 24/7, Sam felt they could probably manage. One way or another.

The tinny, nasally singing of Britney Spears filled the car. Dean groaned and fought the urge to clap his hands over his ears in pain. "I swear, Sammy! If this is another one of your pranks...!"

He tried to turn the radio off and missed the dial by a good six inches.

_Gimme, gimme more. Gimme more. Gimme, gimme more! _

On and on and on and ON it went. Dean felt like his ears were bleeding (Sam was too busy chuckling to be of help, the emo jerk) but he couldn't find the dial and he couldn't afford to take his eyes off of these narrow streets and wrap Baby around a store front or light pole.

"Adam, would you...dammit, do you have to sing along?!" Adam jumped and looked rather guilty, tossing back a mane of non-existent hair and trying to act nonchalant. Dean glared at him. "You know, if I didn't know better I'd say...wait a second..._Christo_."

There was a hiss from Adam.

There was a gasp from Sam.

And there was a curse from Dean and Baby swerved dangerously as Adam's eyes went from their normal hazel to pitch black as the night.

Oh _shit_!

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	72. The Return Of The Angel

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><p>"You get out of Adam right now, you black-eyed son of a bitch!" Dean held onto the wheel with one hand and, with the other, fumbled for Ruby's knife. Damn. Had they put it in the trunk?<p>

Sam, ever the inventive one, reached underneath his seat and pulled out a spray bottle. "Stay back." He said, aiming the nozzle at the possessed Adam. "This is holy water and it will sting."

"You think I don't know that?" The demon stretched Adam's face into a pout that looked horribly out of place and painful.

"Shut up."

"That's not playing very nice. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners? Oh...wait."

Sam squirted a stream of holy water right between the demon's eyes, making it howl in pain and (surprisingly) belch a little bit of black smoke from its mouth.

"'Scuse, me." It muttered.

Dean drove faster, bouncing up and down on the crappy streets (hopefully not LITERALLY crappy...that was hell to get out of Baby's detail work) and watching for a deserted warehouse or abandoned, sheltered parking lot that they could use to exorcise the demon from their brother.

The demon that seemed more concerned with criticising the state of Adam's nails than it did with trying to slit their throats or even causing a car wreck.

That was a new one.

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><p>"Okay, you bastard. Either start talking or get the hell out of Adam's head."<p>

"Would you _please _stop misgendering me?" The demon tossed Adam's non-existent ponytail back with a flounce.

"You're a _girl_?!"

The brothers were favoured with a DUH look.

Now were it any other situation, Dean would be laughing. He had tried to cheer Sam up after the whole debacle with Meg so long ago by joking about 'having a girl inside of him for a week' and, for a while, it had worked. At the very least it had convinced Sam that Dean didn't hold a grudge for the shot to the shoulder...but somehow those jokes were inappropriate while the person in question was _still _possessed.

By a sassy girl, no less.

What did they ever do to deserve this?!

"He's a fighter, this brother of yours is." The demon said. "You should have killed me when you had the chance. Exorcists are so lame."

_"Snooki?!_"

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><p>Snooki the demon (now wearing Adam's body...poor kid) lounged back in the devil's trap the brothers had dumped herhim in. Sam and Dean stood a little ways away, looking into Baby's trunk and conferring quietly.

"God, Sam, what are we going to do?"

"Exorcise her again?"

"No good. Adam isn't protected against possession. What the hell were we thinking?!"

"We weren't. Clearly." Sam shoved aside a bag of graveyard dirt with feeling.

After a few minutes of discussion, Snooki snorted and pursed her lips. "You know, guys, if it'll make things easier, I'll let your brother here come up and chat for a bit. He's scratching away in here."

Before Sam or Dean could answer, Adam's body arched up in pain for a moment and the black cleared from his eyes, leaving them glazed and terrified. "SAM!" He screamed, clawing at his skin. "Get it out, GET IT OUT!"

Sam jumped forward to comfort him and stopped short at the edge of the trap, unsure of what to do. He wanted to help Adam ground himself, to make sure he knew it would be over soon, but if he entered the trap and got in range and the demon took back over...no. That would be suicide. For all involved.

"Sam, pleeease!" Adam begged, eyes wide and filled with terror. "It's in me. I can feel it. GET IT OUT! GET IT - " Snooki took back over.

"There, you see?" She purred, arranging Adam's features into a smile. "He wants you to save him. Pity you can't be rid of me without stabbing him through the heart."

All traces of the brainless bimbo persona were gone. Dean suspected that had never really been Snooki in the first place, but just a façade to hide the evil of her. That poor girl she had been possessing...

_No, Dean. Focus on your brother._

"So." Snooki said, leaning back in a seductive pose that just looked WRONG on Adam's body. "What are you going to do?"

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><p>"What are we going to do? We can't just put Adam through a forced exorcism. You saw the kid!"<p>

Sam and Dean were once again regrouping a little distance away from Adooki, discussing the best way. Were it anyone else, they would probably just exorcise or stab the bitch...but it was Adam! No WAY were they putting him through a forced exorcism where the demon clawed your brain and body as it fought to stay inside. And, of course, stabbing was out of the question seeing as how meatsuits died with the demons.

There was a fluttering sound and a howl from Snooki. "Angel! What the hell are YOU doing here?!"

"I have come to help."

Sam and Dean turned around to see a tall man in jeans and a sweatshirt standing next to Snooki, looking at her solemnly. Something about him seemed familiar...

_Gadreel_!

With a snarl, Sam leaped across the space and slammed Gadreel into the windshield of the Impala, grabbing the angel's collar as he slid down the hood with a surprised grunt and drawing the angel blade to menace his heart.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE!" He roared.

"Wait!" Gadreel held his hands up in surrender, a flicker of panic crossing his face. "I mean you no harm. I'm only here because I wish to help."

Dean snorted. "Help, my ass!"

Sam pressed the blade a little harder into the angel's chest...just enough to dig in and get his point across. "Help? You mean like you 'helped' me? Like you 'helped' Dean? Like you 'helped' Adam?"

"I healed you, Sam! If it were not for me, you would be dead!"

"You also made Dean lie to me."

Gadreel shook his head. "I didn't make Dean do anything. Nobody can make anyone do anything."

"Might not be the best time to philosophise, dick." Dean growled.

The angel swallowed. "Everything I did, I did for the greater good. I only wish to help and to regain my good name."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. And I may be able to help your brother."

Sam relaxed his grip slightly, but still held the blade at the ready. "What do you mean?"

"I heard that there were some rogue crossroads demons in this town, so I came to deal with them. If you let me go, I may be able to extract the demon from your brother."

"Without smiting him? Because smiting him is off the table."

"I will do everything in my power to avoid coming to the place where that would be necessary."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, debating.

"Fine." Sam said at last, throwing Gadreel away from him. "But we're going to be watching your every move."

"I should expect nothing less."

They turned back to Snooki who had pulled Adam's body into a defensive crouch and was staring at them. "So...finally got done flirting and remember I exist?"

Gadreel looked grimly at the possessed Adam who stared back stubbornly. "You know you won't be able to do this for much longer." The angel said at last, bending down in front of the demon. "It's burning through you. You don't have the power."

The demon shrugged Adam's shoulders. "I'll just wait for it to burn out, then." A sly, lascivious smile. "I like this body. Put a little bit of meat back on the bones, and we'll be open for business. Forget Nicole! The girl was a trainwreck waiting to happen. Now this one, he's exciting. A little bit of danger to spice things up." She licked Adam's lips.

"Oh that is just _so _wrong!" Dean whispered to Sam who shuddered.

Gadreel frowned. "You are wrong." He said quietly. "It will burn you out first. Or Adam will win the fight he is raging with you. Choosing a Winchester as a vessel is done at your own peril."

Snooki grinned. "He says he's not a 'Winchester', he's a 'Milligan'. OH!" She cried out in pain and hunched Adam's form forward.

"Do you not see it? Even now?"

"Oh I see it, sugar wings. I'm just not dumb enough to fall for your 'good cop' ploy."

"It is not a ploy."

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	73. Winchester Luck

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><p>Snooki (still wearing Adam like a prom dress) sat curled up in the devil's trap, itching at her chest and flinching every couple of seconds. Sam and Dean and Gadreel stood a little ways away, still conferring.<p>

"We can't keep lollygagging around." Dean said, absently polishing Baby's hood with the sleeve of his overshirt. "Every second we waste, Adam's trapped in there. We need to exorcise him."

"No." Gadreel shook his head solemnly. "She has hooked herself firmly into your brother and will not be exorcised so easily. While she may not be the most powerful of demons, she still has enough strength to seriously injure or possibly even kill him. It would not be wise to further tax his spirit."

"But every minute she's still in there, he's suffering too." Sam said.

"It is indeed a terrible puzzle."

Did all angels have this gift for infuriating understatement? Dean wondered, should he say a prayer, if Castiel or Hannah would come and help. But before he could even begin to formulate the words, Sam spoke up.

"Why did you say she's going to burn?" He asked Gadreel who was examining Snooki as if she was a bug under a microscope. "What's burning her?"

The angel looked at the brothers. "What do you know about angelic possession?" He asked quietly, almost uncomfortably.

Dean glared. "I know some poor bastard gets tricked or blackmailed into giving consent to have his body used by a dick. Why?"

"Simplistically, yes, that is true. But when an angel leaves their vessel, a bit of Grace remains inside. It is how we locate a vacated vessel again."

Sam looked slightly ill. "You mean I have some of your...?"

"Yes. And when I first entered you, I found traces remaining of intertwined stains of both Castiel and Lucifer."

"Must have been from when Cas shifted the visions, Sam." Dean said thoughtfully. "I wondered how he did that."

"What does this all have to do with Adam?" Sam demanded of Gadreel who tipped his head to one side, considering.

"Your brother was the vessel for the archangel, Michael. That mighty and brilliant Grace, remnant though it is, still burns within him. It is stronger and not at all diluted such as Lucifer's was in you, Sam. It will burn the demon right out of him, given enough time."

"So...problem solved, then?"

Gadreel shook his head. "No. The process could take days or even weeks, depending on how much strength the demon is able to muster. She seems quite determined to keep him as a vessel."

From her position, sprawled inside the trap, Snooki chuckled. "_Oh, Deeean!_" She mocked, fanning herself dramatically. "_Oh help me, Sam! Help me!_ He's howling away in here...doesn't he ever shut up?"

"You better shut up, bitch!" Dean snarled.

Snooki pouted. "Now that just hurts." She said. "You should just _hear _some of the things your baby brother is saying about you. Ooo! Even _I'm _shocked by this brat's mouth!"

"Shut up." That was Sam.

"I'm hurt." She said, crossing Adam's arms and leaning back. "Are we done? Can I go? This one needs something to eat."

"Be silent." Gadreel said, letting just a little bit of power fill his voice.

At that, Snooki shrank away a bit. He was an angel. She was a demon. He immediately trumped her.

Didn't stop her from glaring at them, though. "Call off your pet angel, boys, or else I start chewing through his tongue." Adam's body jerked and, for a moment, it looked like Snooki was loosing control. But she merely ended up flopped over to the side and panting. "Don't think I won't do it. If I am to burn, your brother burns with me."

The two hunters and the angel turned their backs on her. "Okay, Gadreel, cut through the bullshit and tell us what to do. We can't exorcise and we can't stab and we sure as HELL can't wait for the Grace or whatever to possibly burn through. Is there anyway you can pull out the demon?"

Gadreel looked mournful. "No. I am an angel, not a miracle worker."

"So what can we do?"

"Nothing."

"Well, thanks, don't sugar-coat it."

"What do you want me to say?" Gadreel suddenly stiffened and put a hand to his temple. "There has been another attack." He said, eyes shut in concentration. "An Emilia Tartle has been found dead in her home on Chestnut Street. It sounds as if it has been another Hellhound hit."

Snooki chuckled roughly.

"Silence." Gadreel said sternly.

"You won't hurt me, big boy." She said. "Because if you hurt me, you hurt poor little Adam here. And, given the way he's screaming, that would be the last straw. Mmm." She licked her lips. "Sooo much hellfire inside this one!"

"You shut the hell up." Dean turned his back on her with difficulty. He wanted nothing more than to _rip _that black-eyed bitch right out of his brother...but this had to be done delicately. According to Gadreel, Adam was closer to the edge than they had thought. It was TORTURE sitting here and doing nothing, just waiting for a solution to show itself. Dean itched to do something. Anything.

He knew Sam felt the same...in fact, it was probably even worse for Sam. Dean knew he could never understand fully because he had (luckily) never been possessed. Sam had been. He had been possessed by demon and by the Devil and by this very same angel that, even now, they were working with.

Damn the Winchester luck!

"You should go." Gadreel said quietly, ignoring Snooki who was coughing roughly and going through another 'burn spasm' from the looks of it.

Dean winced, thinking of the bruises Adam would have. "What do you mean, 'go'?"

"Go and investigate the new case. People are still dying."

Sam glared. "We're not leaving our brother. Why don't you go?"

Gadreel gave him a look that might have been annoyance. "I may yet be able to aid your brother. The demon will keep him alive until she burns out, but if I study her long enough I may be able to disentangle her from him so that he does not have to go through the full burn out process."

"I thought you said you could do nothing."

Snooki laughed in pain and the brothers ignored her (though it was difficult, given she was using Adam's voice).

Gadreel sighed. "I can do nothing about the demon either. At most, I could smite him so that he can make no more deals, but once the deal is made, angels are forbidden from stepping in. Father gave the humans free will. They make their choice and we must respect it. But you...you can step in. So go. I will sit with your brother and aid in any way I can."

Dean pressed his phone into Gadreel's hand. "I'm doing this under protest." He said. "If anything happens...if Adam SNEEZES...you call us right away. Just press 1 and then send. Sam's phone is on speed-dial."

The angel looked at the phone with a bit of curiosity. "I remember Sam using one of these." He said. "Go. I will alert you if anything changes."

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	74. In My Head

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><p>"I don't like this, Dean."<p>

"I know, Sammy."

"Why didn't we get him inked? _Why_?"

"Because we're damn idiots, that's why." Dean hit the steering wheel with feeling. "Seems like we're always messing up with that kid. First the ghouls, then the angels, the Hell, and now this. Damn it all!"

"Do you think we should call Cas?"

"No. You heard Gadreel...the angels can't help with this one. Adam's already a ticking time bomb."

Sam shook his head miserably. "Damn."

"Let's just finish this job and get the hell back there before anybody else dies."

* * *

><p>Gadreel sat crosslegged on the ground, watching silently as the body of the youngest Winchester twitched helplessly where it lay on the ground. He could see the inky blackness of the demon that had latched onto the boy. He could see the faint fire of Michael's Grace where it was intertwined with Adam's soul. He could see the demon fighting back as that same Grace burnt and ate away at it. He could see Adam's spirit screaming in pain as evil and Grace fought within him.<p>

The boy was already teetering on the edge of a cliff. The darkness that threatened to consume him had grown worse since the last time Gadreel had been with the brothers. It was a miracle Adam hadn't already entirely broken and succumbed to madness...but if they didn't save him soon, no amount of willpower could save him.

"Watcha lookin' at, angel?"

"This is folly." He said. "You surely know that you will not survive this."

"The gamble is worth it. This is a very nice meatsuit. Strong. Durable. Good looking." She smirked. "And the brothers Grimm won't be able to do anything for fear of hurting their precious baby brother. And he can't overthrow me now. He's exhausted."

"You will burn out. The Grace of an Archangel would be too powerful, even for a Knight like Abaddon or Marut . You will burn."

Snooki shrugged.

* * *

><p>"AAAAAAAAUGH!" Perez screamed as the holy water hit his face. "Would you cut that out?"<p>

"Did you make the deals?"

"What's it to you?"

They had no time for sass. Sam threw some more water on the demon who shrieked and writhed as his skin steamed. "Well? Did you?"

The demon panted for a couple of seconds, glaring at them while his skin steamed from the blessed water. Only whenever Sam made a move to throw more on him did he sit up straight. "WAIT!" He said. "Yes I did make the deals. But what's it to you?"

"Good, good. Now we're getting somewhere." Dean said with a humourless smile. "See? That wasn't so hard. Now. I want a list of everybody you've made a deal with in the past ten years. And I want to know why you're breaking the contracts and calling them in early. So start talking."

"Why should I?"

Dean leaned down in front of the demon and bared his teeth. "See, it makes me irritated whenever assholes like yourself don't answer me when I talk to them. And whenever I get irritated, I start remembering some of the things I learned while I was downstairs."

The demon's eyes widened slightly, but it sneered. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. So I suggest you start talking."

* * *

><p>"Why kill yourself for this vessel?" Gadreel watched as Snooki was shaken by another bought of pain. "Surely it is not worth the trouble, nor is it worth your death."<p>

"Pretty words from a feathery dick." The demon said. "I don't have to explain myself to you. Not like you can do anything to me. Not without painting a target on your own ass from those Winchesters."

"Do you not think that, should you survive the burn, that they will hunt you down?"

Snooki shrugged carelessly. "The King is never coming back and Abaddon is not the queen for the crossroad demons. Why should I care? This meatsuit is delicious enough to risk it. OH!" She doubled over in pain, clutching Adam's chest.

Gadreel shook his head. Sometimes he missed the solitary quiet of his cell. Dealing with demons never failed to be frustratingly pointless.

* * *

><p>"Is that all?"<p>

"That's all I know, I swear it!" Perez the crossroads demon looked between the brothers as earnestly as he could manage with his black eye, swollen split lip, and still-steaming skin. "Neither Lucky nor the Queen has been seen in weeks. We're all just trying to do our jobs."

"And that includes breaking deals early?"

Perez scowled. "The ten year rule was set by Crowley. In the olden days, deals were to be called in whenever it pleased us. Who's going to punish me? I'm only doing my job."

"Who else is slated for mauling?"

"I gave you the whole list. Are we done?"

Dean stepped back. "Yeah. We're done. Sammy?"

Sam stepped forward and grabbed hold of Perez's hair, yanking his head back and stabbing him through the throat with one smooth motion. "Contract is null and void." As the demon sparked and died, Sam looked at Dean. "Let's go. We've got the information. We need to get back to Adam. I don't like leaving him alone with Gadreel."

* * *

><p><em>Get it out! Get it out! GET IT OUT!<em>

_He choked on the inky, oily, evil black smoke that forced its way down his throat and smothered him. It was dark. It hurt. He had no control. He could see Sam and Dean...see them and hear them, but he couldn't speak to them. He threw himself against it time and time again, trying desperately to break it up and free himself. But it was no use. He only burnt himself every time he tried. It hurt. Pain, pain, pain. So tired. So weary. He couldn't go on. It was too strong for him._

_It hurt. It hurt SO badly! He was so tired...so exhausted...he just wanted it to end._

_Oh God. He was back there again, wasn't he? Back in the dark and the fire and the pain. Torment. Agony. False hope. Eternal damnation. Hell._

Inside his head, Adam screamed.

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